Winter Wonderland…

Snow nestled in silent hills

Silence in the frozen chill

Awake to the dawn of a wonderland

Beneath a sky painted by nature’s hand

Your whispered breath on the window pane

Mist of tears in your eyes gain

Momentum, then fall in heaves and sighs

You want to share the heightened emotion

But all that you see is your  own devotion

He would have loved the snow

For he had no where to go

Now he dwells at heaven’s door

Asking nothing, feeling the cold no more

Deborah A. Bowman

snow 4

The Labor of Love

The Labor of Love

by Deborah A. Bowman

Should it hurt to love someone?

Accept their barbs, lies, and the battles they’ve won?

That left you trampled in the dust, desolate and confused.

Or should you just turn away, separate yourself, be a recluse?

There can be peace and freedom from no interaction

From those who we are expected to love without condition.

Guilt seeping in with every whispered taunt.

Trying to accept and believe, but left only in want.

Sometimes it’s best just to lie down and rest,

Safe from the anger, jeers, and jests.

Sometimes it just isn’t funny anymore.

The time will come when you need less to achieve more.