Suspended
The pulse of life is altered,
a dimension set apart
closed in behind streaming window panes.
Half of life falls away . . .
I wonder why it seemed consequential yesterday.
Suspended . . .
unshelved a world of joys duty pushes back,
sweet pleasures always whispering,
but out voiced by louder tongues:
books and music,
fragrant kitchen scents,
fireside soup suppers with soft voiced friends,
some decades or even centuries old.
Blessed refreshment rainy days bring to earth,
but miracles they perform for drought encrusted minds.
Copyright, September 9, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
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