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Photo shared by Heather Cox Richardson from Letters from an American

Forlorn the Soul,
awaiting thee,
I need more energy,
designed for me.

When a new day
dawns on the morrow,
will it be joyful
or only be sorrow?

Sorrow seems to
own the day,
when Joy
never finds its way.

A grayness of life
covering the ground.
No colors to see,
no noise, no sound.

What a time in life,
when all is gray.
No matter the choice,
you will never stay.

Modest Urgell (1839–1919) Spanish painter, writer and art teacher born to a wealthy family in Barcelona . He studied at the Escola de la Llotja. His works consist almost entirely of landscapes and maritime scenes, often set in isolated places such as cemeteries and monasteries. The image shown is in the Public domain

I would like to fly
through the clouds,
of a rose-colored sky.
To soar to the heights,
close to the Sun,
with memories of
how our love started,
when we were young.

Lacey the wings,
fragile and lite.
Beautiful colors,
blessing your sight.

When will we change?
What will it be,
when all of the World
are happy as we?

Shared by Heather Cox Richardson from Letters from an American

I hear the words rattle
inside my head.
No escape for the moment,
but just instead,
I'll write words tomorrow,
they may be read.

It came at night
to steal your Soul.
No second chance,
the evening ghoul.

The moon waxes
from high above,
what has happened
to our eternal love?

A smokey day,
a reddish haze,
reminds me of
the end of days.

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