The pen of the poet
Has been replaced
By the fingertip
As the words fly
Out of the heart
Onto the screen
It’s the only way
That she can be free
Of the gilded cage
That holds her captive
She can only do so much
But she dances still
Letting her words
Free fall
Fly off
Land just right
Wherever they are meant
Then she feels
Just a little bit
As if she got to fly
Herself.
š£š Jeanna” Mead
941 a.m. 11.27.18
Www.jeannasoul.com
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Published by jeannasoul
I'm a woman that is absolutely in love with life....I'm doing what I love to do-as a massage therapist,a writer,a seeker of all that touches my soul and lifts my body.
I find great pleasure in the midst of chaos, in time with nature and kindred spirits.
I love the wisdom and clarity of Paulo Coelho, the music that makes me dance, and being present with the person I'm with.
I write to fulfill my soul and, hopefully, to touch others.
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Jeanna' Soul 