That conversation had its ups and downs.
Words like axes
Cutting at the very root of joy.
Hacking whole orchards of dreams
Throw those words out of the window,
Let the sun cleanse them,
The wind blow them away.
This conversation is fairly bowling along,
Words like flowers
Growing whole meadows of dreams.
No dream excluded.
Put those words in your eyes,
Let them warm all who read them,
The gentle wind blow them into love.
© Gwen Grant