Begging for the Sun
The claret wine is now balsamic
Aged but sweetened by the life course of time
A bottled up bud slowly dying
Like sentiments of residue to be exposed and judged
What a bountiful memory we hold onto its last drop
The tongue of many youthful kisses captured and lost
As inviting as a warm bath chasing the chill
Only to wake to forced childlessness like the bitter winter begging for the sun.
Spring seeds in the frost grasping to the soil for comfort
Honey mead wine dreams of motherhood lost
That harvest once hopeful now evaporated into air unexpected
Thoughts and insight from the Author:
"The sun rises"
"Although we fear without a child we would be unimportant or bare but strength and wisdom are conceived from such despair".
"The compass within becomes agile and less fragile. For we can now see more clear that our soul purpose was not physically shared with the unborn but in the most profound way with the living."