Ever suddenly been moved to tears and not know why? These tears you weep, from way down deep...…
Winter is the womb where Spring finds the room, to give way to Summer where she is in full bloom. Then falls into Autumn like the leaves to their resting tomb. Home again. We find ourselves. In the deep Winter of our womb.
Guest Writer This Week! Featuring a poem about women who not only run with wolves, they dance.
To those who dare to wander and find, your truth to no longer feel hopelessly blind.
She feels between-the-lines, of what others do not express. She reads between-the-wines, for what goes unexpressed. She's a feeler of the world, filled with the wealth of inner success.