Smile lines
reflected in silver
grew from
joy’s seedlings
planted in
the stony soil
of dark roots.
Beneath the
weathered ivory
an inner child
was once chased
by a nightmare
sunlight could
not escape.
Now my face,
washed by
survivor’s strength,
no longer bears
the teeth of ghosts.
Comments
Thanks for linking up to Saturday's challenge ~ Happy weekend ~
Thank you for sharing
Peace
Siggi
Kiss. <3
over stony soil and ghost teeth...
a wonderful take on the prompt..