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December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.

John J. Geddes

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John J. Geddes
Breath
Breaths
Clouding
Winter
Obscuring
Memory
Frosting
Summer
Pane
Already
Pond
Memories
Ponds
December

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I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.
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And not out of fear or loneliness, but only to find myself again... for we have come too far my Life, to turn back now.
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I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists
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Here's what I've learned - people will hurt you, but you don't have to respond: Not every mean comment or cruel act deserves to be noticed.
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Some people won't even own a dog for fear it will die - you can't bubble-wrap your heart.
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I make no apology about stirring the depths - every human longs to swim under water and see what lurks beneath
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Each heart is made of a different stone - no two feel alike nor break the same way.
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I'm not afraid of the opinions of others - but of being needed and coming up short.
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I'm a modern mountebank - I believe in Physiognomy - after all, we are in control of our face - it's the map of where we've been.
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Poetry is paying attention to life when all the world seems asleep to its beauties and truths.
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