The quiet and stillness
of a peaceful Sunday morn,
Sitting, breathing, basking in the calm
No longer tired and worn.
The pains and hurts of the past,
She shed like an old worn coat
To make room for sweet newness
Joy rising in her throat.
The sweet spring air rests upon her tongue
The warm sun flushes her pale skin
As she says goodbye to a past
Holding on would only hurt again.
She can’t change what happened yesterday
Can’t wish for a different story
Her gaze is only toward the sun
As it peeks above the mountain’s glory.
~ Patti Crowley