When you cant find your way back home. When your dreams seem to change thier bright tone. When hope seems to fly out the door, stand and count your blessings one by one. The change of the day has begun. You don't have to feel so outdone. Just listen to the voice of your own, the sound of the water, the laugh of a daughter, the clear falling rain and wind driven words, great blanket of birds, flying across the face of the sun. Please believe in yourself my friend. It's never really the end. It's just a shift in the season, the ryme and the reason of the master's great brush stroke of change. And it's constant and it's change and it will always be, and now your free.


©2013 Tom Squires

Tom Squires

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/changes-50/