In my dreams, I watch from my tower as a woman walks out in the pale moonlight and holds her broken marriage before God as if to ask one question tearfully, why? Every night I wonder to myself, who is she? Her silver hair sways in the wind, her tears fall silently to the ground. She wears her pain like a gladiator wears armor. She is untouchable, her chalice of sorrow a cup only she can taste. I can’t wait to see her rise from her ashes like a phoenix. Like a whisper on the wind, the new day dawns and she makes her way home to hide the pain she releases into the night.
Published by frontporchmusings694846020
I am a good ole country boy residing in North Mississippi. I love to read, fish, hunt, hike and go to garage sales. Flea markets are a passion of mine. I read anything, but some of my favorites are: Dean Koontz, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, T.S. Eliot, Shakespeare, and I possess a fondness for the writings of William Faulkner and Mark Twain. If I am forced to choose, I prefer baseball to football. I enjoy Alabama football (Roll Tide)! My baseball teams include: The Colorado Rockies and Boston Red Sox. I am divorced, the father of two daughters and live by myself with Chunk and Roscoe (my dogs). View all posts by frontporchmusings694846020