…in this old house…

Sifting through instances of weakness…I know now that…/that perfect time will never come…/in this search for that sun-kissed season…/for one more reason…/I reach right now for my life…/at the tip of the steps of this old house…/I discover papa’s old clock in aged attic awning.../mocking frozen fingers of father time whisper to me to…wait no longer for dream stranger…/to pray even stronger for my own heart to become my savior…/to walk on pea green river…/with rock knowledge that my faith in my uncertain foothold will bring me to…wide open spaces of…discovery…/golden tributary of…branches leading to life of golden possibility…/and in these denim tight pockets of time/when in my head I celebrate my future victories…/I applaud when my fingers of time spring to song again…/I crochet bigger footprints on the tapestry of my life.