spring's glistening drops of dew
have become a harsh frost
settling deep within the bones;
the sun is slower to warm
though I find myself
in less of a hurry
to move through my day,
content now to linger
over a fleeting minute,
absorbing more
of all that surrounds;
the sharper the cold
the more welcome
the warmth
Author: zpotter
Meaning
it is no badge of honor
this ache of inadequacy
I seem determined to carry,
the outside world does not
spend sleepless nights
sweating over how
it can do me in,
yet I am all too willing
to exhaust my mind
in worry
over the its decisions;
it is a search for meaning:
we all want to make our mark,
to mean more -
and we do,
to those who matter,
though we often fail to see it -
these faceless entities
we give ourselves over to
should not be where we search
for our self-worth,
it must come from within,
we give our lives meaning
Tradition
we gather
the fire pops and crackles,
children's feet patter across the floor,
muted conversations hum
interrupted by roars of laughter
at stories well told
and reminiscences well made;
bodies are stooped and straightened,
faces are lined and brightened,
time has made its marks;
nothing has changed,
everything is different,
this place is emptier,
still it bursts with love