What of the melting snow and drifting sand? He ponders the arrows of a cloud’s gripping hand. Watches wind shake her hair. To spy the girl steady on the cliff she guards a boat where sea roses bloom honorably for self and man. She whispers in his storm “Let me be.” Forever wayward in search of soul yet able to find her way back home. for more from Jeanne, find her here:https://seasonsapoeticjourney.com/
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out... View more posts
