Boxes of beads, diagrams of projects, branches stretched into circles
Waiting, full of potential, but destined to remain
Unfinished.
Unfinished
Unfinished
There is something about the end of each day now, something that fits
Or rather doesn’t. As if a day without talking to you is a day,
Unfinished.
Boxes of beads, diagrams of projects, branches stretched into circles
Waiting, full of potential, but destined to remain
Unfinished.
File folders with check lists, painstakingly created,
Words to follow, words to study, but still so many things left,
Unfinished.
How do I follow a path that at times is so unclear?
No footsteps left to follow, the road before me,
Unfinished.
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Author: Michele Plumb Stowell
Michele Stowell was a teacher, a hand holder, and encouraging voice. Born an early Gen Xer, she has lived in Western Washington for the duration. Her children, two spectacular genetic daughters and an uncountable number of marvelous scout and school sons and daughters, shine as her biggest impact and her greatest blessing. Just before her 54th birthday, Michele was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Her writing and art work are expressions of the drama and the joy of living earth bound. On October 24, 2021, Michele was released from her physical body, transported to continue her work on other realms.
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micheleplumbstowell.org 