If I could extract the precious memories of my heavy heart and place them into glass orbs.
They would tinkle with every nostalgic sigh, I never knew such unrestricted passions.
The purest image of it in my mind as I walk the thin line in Grace.
My prayers on my lips,
Making sure I slip in thanks
As I leave myself both open and on the outside.
Julia Manuel on Poem #4 ingridfalconi on Poem #4 Julia Manuel on Poem #4