Lady of the Glen
By FranticFad
A spirit and soul born of nature, forged on the hearth of a woman’s life, the lady of the glen speaks quietly in my ear. She tells me tales of loves lost and lessons learned, she teaches me how to appreciate the beauty in the simplest of things. At the times when I feel the lowest she stands, friend and example, ridden hard by the harshness of life, yet never ground under its calloused heel. At one with the flowers and stone, the land and the water. She calls on me when her soul is troubled, yet it is I, somehow, who has been healed. Though I shall never be one such as to feel the supple grace of her silken shoulder under the trembling pads of my eager fingers, it is yet the soft perfume of a spring stroll among the asters that fills my head as the dream of her hair brushes my lips. What is love if not the hand that reaches across impossible gulfs, drawing our hearts to a better purpose, our minds to clearer vision and our lips to more eloquent speech?You never know who will touch your heart Written March 18th, 2002 © on Mar 18 2002 11:14 AM PST 0 • 8
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"A spirit and soul born of nature, forged on the hearth of a woman’s life, the lady of the glen speaks quietly in my ear. She tells me tales of loves lost and lessons learned, she teaches me how to appreciate the beauty in the simplest of things. ..."