When I scatter words along - like crumbs to mark my path,
They reveal the stories of my youth - and all my age...
Setting them then to rhymes or regimented verse,
I find myself exposed on every page...
A tender recollection of a moment with a child,
Ballads of the heroes from my past,
Words escaping from a heart... emotion overflowing,
Passions of my youth - the die was cast...
Lost and maybe some ill-chosen love, but who could know
Secrets kept and shared - then set apart...
Spinning time and gathering each thought and phrase you see,
Are things I hold the closest to my heart.
copyright 2006 Carol Smith
available at Hastings, San Angelo, TX; Mountain Home, AR
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