Winter’s freeze sets in,

Trees stripped of their leaves,

Stand barren against the gray.

Grass lay dormit, hiding away.

Until the warmth of Spring finds its way.

To soothe the icy heart of Winter.

Gracing the land with its warm gentle hand.

 

– Jamie Whorton ©

Photo by : Jamie Whorton

Photo by: Jamie Whorton

Photo by Jamie Whorton

Image found on Pinterest

Tattered and torn standing through the test of time. Something that’s yours and mine. Flying high against the sky gently waving in the breeze. For love of country and of man. With honor I stand. Hand over heart. Pride in my soul. A prayer for all who serve, and for those who never came home. From east to west, sewn together in the fabric of Old Glory as one. United together, one and all.

Jamie Whorton ©

Why do the ones who care the most get pushed away? The one Who has no motives , the one who truly cares.. Is discarded, and replaced.

While the one who couldn’t care less, who oozes fakeness and is filled with motives.. Is held with such high regard?

A question I think I’ll never have an answer for.

The only thing it leaves me with is unknowing and pain.

 

Jamie Whorton ©

What’s your views?

Your hopes, your dreams,

And everything in between.

Show me all of you, and I’ll show you all of me.

Give your all to me, and I’ll give you my all,

My everything within me.

As I stand here before you unveiled, do you like what you see, or will you turn and walk away?

Does your expectations exceed the reality of me?

In this unveiling of me, how will we proceed?

The fears we all must face. To let someone in past the many faces,

Faces wore as a safety net,

A security cloak.

Afraid of being rejected for the reality of me.

 

Jamie Whorton ©

 

How many miles must I go ? A thought that occasionally crosses my mind. It seems I’ve walked and walked as though I’m standing still. Maybe I’m walking through a bog. In the quagmire of life’s indecision’s and disappointments awaiting to swallow me down in the merky black ink. Still I wonder how much fuels left in the tank. Trudging ahead, on ward I go. Yet again how many miles must I go ? Those words echo from within. A good life lived. Built up a legacy from these dusty fields. Raised up a family and sent them out into the world to carve their own path. How much more do I have to give? The comfort in knowing that the job here was coming to an end. Knowing he did the best he could. Knowing everyone was well taken care of. So when the thought (how many miles must I go ? ) crosses my mind, I push on. I still have miles to go, and much to give.

 

Jamie Whorton ©

Photo by Jamie Whorton