A birthday gift, hand made, by my five year old grand-daughter, in case I go gaga and forget who I am. I have no intention of doing so deliberately … but at my age … who knows? It can happen so quickly and so easily.
Robin Red Nest
That little red nest,
my heart,
hearth and home
to a galaxy of winged gods
who nest there,
year after year,
migratory spirits
blessing me with
hope renewed
in their spring nest’s
tangle of feather and twig.
Old now,
you thump to different rhythms
and schisms sprung from my body
Age winds you up like a watch spring
stretching my lifeline egg-shell thin.
When the wind of change
blows me away,
what will replace you
and your offer of sanctuary
to those you daily nourish?
So sad I will be
to abandon you,
your visions unfulfilled
as winter winds unravel you,
twig by twig,
until nothing remains
but the bare
white-boned cradle
in which I carried you,
so lovingly.
rogermoorepoet 
Reblogged this on From The Darkness Into The Light and commented:
wonderful poem
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Thank you so much! I visited your post.
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I Am reblogging this beautiful poem, ty
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Thank you. I am getting to the age when I worry about these things! And yes, I am wearing my bracelet.
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Beautiful, poignant words!
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Thank you. Old age is not for cissies. I think abut those words by Bette Davis. She was right!!! Thank you for commenting.
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