The Apples in My Orchard

A mournful mood hovers over me this morning

like a dense fog, thick and oppressive. Thoughts

of what could have been,

what should have been,

what might have been,

replace all others.

Laugher in the hallways,

a carefree smiling face, life’s race run at full speed,

full of joy and well-being.

The fog of mournfulness is heavy, weighing

everything down in its path.

Even the twinkling lights of the newly fir lined

banister cannot banish the grayness of my

mood.

To nature I look, noting a tinge of blue beyond the gray.

It is there. Can you see it? Hope. Seeping

through the gray to permeate our lives

once again. It is always there behind the fog.

Hope.

Joy.

Life.

Living.

This poem is being submitted to the Poetry Friday community hosted this week by Elizabeth Steinglass. She offers a wonderful piece on a Menorah. Please check it out!