Thanks

by Sparks In Shadow

Photo by Ré Harris

My moments have not ended.
I fear, yet carry my loads and arrive.
Flavors line my pockets, fingers exploring as I walk from here to there, choosing.
Red, green and blue greet me, familiar where they lie in all their tones.
Whispers may approach without clarity, but I notice, able to ask.
Waving my hand over paper with sharpened pencil or favored pen,
words appear in the order I set
with a mind agile still, and ready for more to test it in the arts I adore.
These and more, I understand,
value,
relish,
often sharing their fruits,
in gratitude.

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