Just yesterday I stood at the window and watched him run across the field like a young deer. He is thin and agile. I think he will be forever young. He cannot be enticed by money or worldly goods; he desires nothing.
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
I wonder if it is possible to escape the clinches of despair; or would despair become the hunter and reclaim me as its prisoner.
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
Her voice is as soft as a bubbling brook and there is an undeniable holiness surrounding her.
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
Curiosity can be as dangerous as a butterfly hovering over a flame.
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
God only knows what the doctor gave her. However,the medication has run out and she now must face the reality on her on accord.
Nancy B. BrewerThe real Sallie has returned and her portrayal of Mother has disappeared
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
I recall the words, the faces, the stale perfume and the pungent odor that filled the room..
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
As I held the family Bible in my hand and I could almost feel the joys and sorrows that connected me to the past.
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
The seamstress
With fingers weary and worn,
And eyelids heavy and red,
Long after the house sleeps,
Still in her chair she sits.
Her needle flickering, in-out,
Daylight nears and the fire burns low,
Alone with her shirt, still she sews.
She, held prisoner by her thread,
Her heads nods, but sleep forbids,
Just one more seam or button two.
Listen brothers, sons and husbands all,
Call it not just cotton, linen or only wool,
Count each stitch and say a prayer,
For heart and soul that put them there.
I consider all things a work of fiction, even myself.
Nancy B. BrewerMots clés www-nancybbrewer-com
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