Our lives are like crossword puzzles. Similar,
and yet no two are alike. The beginning
needs time, a few steps forward until,
you fall into your first folly, tracing
your steps backwards to the starting point again.
Start again? I think not, written with ink,
the past, the present, the future, are linked,
and cannot be undone. Like the fusias
we planted too early this year. Exposed
to frost, the choice we made was flawed,
and quickly came undone, despite some days
in the sun. And yet we still are holding hope.
Holding hope? Yes it does support our steps
through the crossword puzzled maze of choices
we make. But hope is fragile and depends
on the elusive winds that blow through our lives.
The loss of hope is gradual, but certain.
The puzzle of life always wins in the end.