…
Won’t you come toddle
with me
a little closer to the sea,
braid my graying tresses
through your
gentle storytelling hands?
Let’s stand at the edge
of the world
and salt our sorrows, shed
our fears into the breeze,
weave our
joys into this sanded shore.
Let’s stand and watch the
day dawn,
break itself open against a
cobalt sky, pass on by and
then fade into
this golden wave-whirled yawn.
…
title phrase prompt from quickly.
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
OH…BUT THE COMPANY WE’RE KEEPING!!!!
I like your use of “by the sea” & also “Your gray braid
I hope to get hair like my nana did. pure white.
De this is so real, so poignant. I love it.
This is so tender…♥ Beautiful, De.
Mine is coming in silver and white. I went to get it trimmed once and a gal wanted to professionally ‘highlight it for me’… Told her, no thanks the natural look is just fine 😉
You write marvelously.
This is a gem … We never expect it to happen to us
Darling, it’s much better than the alternative 🙂
Toddle, story-telling hands, break itself open, wave-whirled yawn — these are the spots I loved!
“come toddle with me” That cracks me up.
“braid my graying tresses” Gorgeous.
I love “storytelling hands”; there’s so much “story” in just that small phrase. It makes me think of The Notebook.
“our sorrows shed” That’s a little building off to the side where you store your sorrows. You can’t be carrying those around while you’re walking on the beach!
Since the title is “I’m” growing old, rather than “we’re,” I’m picturing a woman and her granddaughter spending the summer together. And now I think I’m going to go have a good cry, thinking about my mother.
So beautiful, I can picture it.