Wednesday, March 21, 2018


May 30, 2012 by  
Filed under Monthly Articles

A time of restlessness at the end of her day, slowly she breathes…
A lazy spring breeze barely moves the leaf-laden tree,
As it begs so hauntingly, “Come and play in me.”
How old must one’s ghost child be to ignore the plea,
To hide in re-breathed, man-made cool air,
Just an old woman in her dim, sad lair.
Dancing the unseen current fades as a pastel dream,
Screaming laughter in the zephyr’s sweet stream,
The awakened girl abides “within,” longing to be free,
Escaping the prison of her window-chair,
Re-born again with wind blown hair.
So comely is her spirit, so beautifully gentle the day,
She welcomes memories, “Come back I pray!”
A ruffling aura faintly disturbs her rest and reverie,
Peace ascends with blessings and care,
Beauty re-found in the One so fair.
“Sweet Jesus,” she sings in the warm gusty twilight,
Softly he answers, “I am the strength for your night.”
I am your yesterday, today, and the day that shall be,
In your dreams, wait for me there,
Breezes of heaven together we’ll share.
A time of rest at the end of her day, slowly she breaths…
RHEA B. RIDDLE is a wife, mother and grandmother and a lifelong storyteller, who recently began writing the poetry, stories and incidents that have occurred in her life experiences. She was born in Kentucky seventy-three years ago in a small city on the Ohio River during the epic flood of that mighty water way. With a rich heritage in memories from which to draw, she hopes to entertain and intrigue you, the reader, and draw you into another realm of “time re-wound” living.  You can reach Rhea at:

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