This poem is for all those who find this life a trial. Keep on keeping on, as someone once remarked.

Buried in the Sunlight

Eleanor played the pipes as a piper should,

flying light with grace and flair and swing,

with airs like a wind band in the deep greenwood:

dancing her careless heart towards an Appalachian spring.

All who knew her, all for whom her life seemed bles...

Read and leave comments (2)