A poem titled: Potential.
A baby, fresh in his parents arms.
Fingers and toes,
A beating heart,
A lifetime ahead.
A couple, on the brink of the rest of their life,
Breathless with joy,
A new home,
Full hearts and big plans,
A story waiting to be told.
A child, feet swinging in his chair,
A new notebook,
New pens and an open mind,
Eager to be nurtured.
A seed, buried gently by fingers,
Watered and watched,
Cared for and sun-kissed,
A flower about to bloom.
Me, as I wipe the sleep from my eyes,
Yesterday’s mistakes fresh on my mind.
I feel pockmarked with
Bad choices.
….
A fresh start
Doesn’t mean the cracks
On my fragile heart have healed
But it means
I can fix them.
….
A fresh start
Doesn’t mean my soul
Is ready to speak to me,
But it means
Today-
Maybe I’ll listen.
Each day I awaken
With fresh potential
Always able to turn a page,
A new chapter,
A new start.
Yesterday may be stained
With yesterday’s pain
But today is still clean
And the future lies in wait.
And lives are waiting to be changed
And stories are waiting to be told
And lessons are waiting to be learned
And growth is waiting to be grown
And time is standing still
For only a moment.
Blog Post: 42/52
Featured Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash
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