At thirty-eight
The words worry
At thirteen
They flew
And soared
The question is
Idealism ceased
When reality
Was too much
Not to address
Free me
From worry
So life
Can become
A joy
It deserves
Thank you ancestors
The blood of
Yellow and blue
Is my mantra
Be determined
Be so fierce
The world
Takes notice
Simple words in right order has a power
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI don't think we'll ever be free from worry -- it will just vary who and what we worry about.
ReplyDeleteWorrying does no good yet we can't seem to stop.
ReplyDeleteAt 70 plus you learn worry disappears quickly as well as the days of the week. it's strange but all i want and usually see is the beauty that i missed out on seeing when so busy with my life.
ReplyDeleteI love reading your thoughtful and creative posts. You should publish them in a book!
ReplyDeleteSuch powerful words! Wishing you an inspired week!
ReplyDeleteGood words and thoughts too.
ReplyDeleteLove your words and sentiments. Blessings.
ReplyDeleteThis says so much! Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words Rue!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, powerful words!
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful
ReplyDeletemaking it mine... free me from worry...
ReplyDeleteKisses!
Beautifully spoken Regine
ReplyDeleteBlessings
Maxine
Very nice.
ReplyDeleteLovely and creative. Worrying doesn't solve anything.
ReplyDeleteNice poem! ๐๐
ReplyDelete~~~~~~
It's nice that you are close to your ancestors and remember them in your heart.
ReplyDeleteHave a sweet day, dear friend.
~Sheri