Life’s celebration in springs bloom.

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A celebration of life?
I ponder what is such
without poetry?
And what is poetry
without life?
But for the empty void
of letters amassed
together to create a
void of existence
nullifying to the soul…

I declare in the twilight
hours of my despair
I shall never utter the
essence of your spirit
upon my page again
and in that instance
I wonder do I seize to
be a poet?
No.
For even silence
tells a story..

Spring blossoms
afore me,
petals peeling away
layers as the
sun warms and
mirth wakens
the earth.
Upon the new breeze,
your whisper,
telling me to reach
to the skies,
upon eternal wings,
fly, I hear, fly and
celebrate life.

Karen Hayward* ©2017
Image and words.

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