Empty nest
discourages sadness,
too beautifully woven
with flowered wild grasses,
nostalgic strands of the past
leave the heart
to imagination,
a reminder that love remains
behind in every season,
as well as the next:
from eggs come wings
to independence
to touch for oneself
the clouds’ edges.
Home, they say,
is where the heart is,
and a part of my heart
flies with you and will
beyond this world’s
and life’s limitations…
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Laura Denise 