POEMS & REFLECTIONS

She was sitting in her garden on a pleasant summer day, when she heard the sound of music as a flute began to play.

Perspective from a broken place
where debris hides her view,
impedes attempts to faintly trace
the form of what is true.

Her echoed whispers fade away
while he is gazing at his face,

Within the vivid garden of her mind, he light cascades in golden ribboned beams,

Lord God, You are our fortress and our strength, our refuge while the battle fires burn.

Along the road, decrepit buildings stand, where beasts that roared with industry lie dead.