Grace Riffle Poems

Under the old peach tree
Hearing the buzz of bees
Looking up at pink blossoms so sweet
Watching pink petals fall at my feet
...

Wasted years that have slipped through my fingers
I can't call them back
They are but memories that linger
Through my waking hours
...

Night must end,
And in the future years
There will come another dawn
To wipe away my foolish tears.
...