Flowers

 Let me be

As the flowers 

Of the field

Basking in grace

Rain or shine

Whose aroma

Sweetens with

Each day

Monday questions

 How was your Mother’s Day?

What are you reading?

What are you eating?

What are you buying?

What is making you smile?

Good. Took Mom to Zaxby’s. Small town. Not much open. She enjoyed her salad. Told me it was the thought that counted. I guess fancy doesn’t matter sometimes. 

Kinfolk magazine

Protein bar

Browsing my favorite boutique The House of Ford out of Greenville

A sweet text message I didn’t expect. 

Your turn?

Mom

 Mom

The one 

Who will

Still kiss

Boo boos

Tell the truth

Yet still remind

You everyday

Not to mention

Her idiosyncrasies

They will soon 

Become your own

Happy Mother’s Day

The struggle

 Who am I

I’m still meeting me

These past few years

Are still teaching me

That all the money

And fame 

Might bring attention

But seeking attention

For attention’s sake

Will leave one

With a lonely heart

A starved soul

A warped mind

And a lost sense of self

The numbers on this blog

Leave me speechless each day

Because too often

I’ve let the world

Determine my worth

And when that happens

Turmoil erupts

Like angered volcanoes

I don’t know

Much

But I know this

I must trust God

Over everything else

Even if 

Even when

It’s an hourly struggle

Place

 Lacing up

Those tennis shoes

Freedom in

The feet

In the street

As each step

Brings my body

Back to a place

I can be

Proud of now

And forevermore

Questions

 Favorite hobbies?

Random fact about you?

Favorite magazine?

Favorite author?

Favorite book?

Reading, writing, thrifting

I like to doodle

Vogue or Tatler

Tolstoy

Too many

Your turn?

Hands

 A little smile

A big hug

A joy

That isn’t spoken

In simplicity 

An ordinary life

Becomes extraordinary

Not because 

What we want

Changes

But how

We approach it

Shifts

And we realize

That as

My hands

Are occupied

My mind

Can’t wander 

Down the rabbit hole