Heather Burns Poems

It was Sunday the day
was cold
she came to my door
as I was told
...

We continue creating

a picture with words
...

Standing with arms
outstretched toward
heaven
...

My dear friend
I refuse to let
you go
...

Rose, a
symbol of
beauty, purity,
power, excellence
...

A young tender
branch
is easily bent
into submission.
...

In the land of Egypt, it came
to pass
Jacob a wealthy man, sons did
mass.
...

A weeping willow
stands silently
at the waters edge
...

Yesterday
I
returned to
the beach
...

In the rustling of the leaves
someone called my name

a voice so familiar
...