Posted: April 18, 2010 in Uncategorized

This was written last year. Spring, it may just not be my best season. One day I may come to understand why.

There is fishing though, that’s the best thing about Spring. Now if I can only find my pole.


Body tired, a weary traveller through time,
The moment will arrive when the thoughts will be all mine.

Journeys yet to take,
Too many leaves to rake.

A Balloon without a string,
Shyly peeking out in spring.

Though the breeze has the gentle power to lift,
The ground is solid, not likely to shift.

Time will tell, season by season,
This life of mine will declare its reason.    

April 09

Coventry CT

  1. Dani H says:

    We have so little in the way of seasons here in Arizona ~ we’ve already been up to 96 degrees in April ~ but I love the thought of the seasons. This is a lovely poem, Joanne. Thank you for sharing! Love you! *big squishy hugs*

  2. Caroline says:

    Beautiful. For me, my least favorite time of year is December – long story and I won’t bore you. But this is lovely. :o) xo

  3. Linda Adcock says:

    Keep writing sis!!! Love you!

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