Anagrams In Your Mind.

Anagrams in your mind?
Do leave worries behind.
Let your words flow,
then you will know.

Sweet one with a heart of gold,
I sense with no need to be told
that you search for the secret and the key
to fill your soul from here until eternity.

Let the music flow and come from your heart,
go now, don't hesitate, let the problem depart.
You are a unique person of life's poem,
in the great depths of your mind's home.

The past is gone and indeed today is a gift
as tomorrow's hopes and our spirits do lift.
We thank God for where and who we are,
and reap so many of life's benefits - by far.

The webs we weave should be untangled,
but somehow we have become strangled
in our quest to learn and to explore,
and we then come to a closed door.

Life seems to be a way to learn
of how to value all, and to earn
our individual ways to eternal bliss.
Best we openly listen, and not miss.

It is people like you who give others hope,
as we at times, lose our grip on life's slope.
This learning curve is a long distance to travel
and to slowly grow, to discover, and to unravel.

'What is happening here? ' you may ask.
Of such a question you give, such a task.
Maybe, just maybe, it is of 'birds of a feather',
who's experienced all seasons and all weather.

The time has come for you to rest your sweet head,
and to sleep peacefully and soundly in your soft bed.
So now let the anagrams of your mind recede at leisure,
to enjoy a new life ahead, with much peace, and pleasure.

by Colleen Wright

Comments (2)

Dear Colleen, This poem truly rings for me, I especially liked: 'It is people like you who give others hope, as we at times, lose our grip on life's slope. This learning curve is a long distance to travel and to slowly grow, to discover, and to unravel. 'What is happening here? ' you may ask. Of such a question you give, such a task. Maybe, just maybe, it is of 'birds of a feather', who's experienced all seasons and all weather' Indeed, their are so very many slippery slopes weathered old birds such as I.. sometimes forget...the rains turn the red into slippery clay A Great reminder here to stay focused on the paths that mean more... A wonderful thought provoking pen, Collen!
i usually wake up in the morning to the first line of my poem popping into my head...i liked reading this poem...it had a homely feel to it...like a mothers embrace...love...nalini