Why is it that sometimes our most favorite memories are those that seem often to be shrouded in gray and the hardest to clearly remember?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shrouded In gray The struggle Remains To recall What’s gone Lost Alone Wandering Time passes Gradually To envision A future Lying ahead Clear And bright Possibilities Call softly However still Beckons The past In mists Of my Dark and Faulty memories
Poetry, creative writing and a desire to inspire..... Isaiah 40: 31 But they who wait upon the Lord will get new strength. They will rise up with wings like eagles. They will run and not get tired. They will walk and not become weak..