Little feet and legs move
Slower…slower…slower
Each step, exaggerated
A game of pretend
The truth inadvertently
revealed, in a mischievous smile
Two tiny hands carry
a glass bowl, carefully
Until, at long last, reaching
A stronger, older set of
hands, patiently waiting
Hands, ready to receive
Willing to share
the weight for
as long as needed
I think there is
a lesson within
this pretending
Carried, offered, received, reclaimed
What feels heavy in
Your hands, my hands,
Your heart, my heart
May feel lighter in the
and heart of another-
The opposite is also true
A quiet notion nudging
us toward a readiness to
cheerfully share the weight
Simply Sunday
Please enjoy the following preview from my upcoming poetry collection, The Space Between Clouds, available March 15, 2026!
DON’T LISTEN
Soft, wispy feathers
graced the sky today
Beautiful against the blue-
I quietly asked,
Where did you come from?
A lovely swan
gliding on the water
The wings of an angel
offering comfort-
All these lovely thoughts
But then…that voice
What is wrong with you?
Those are just clouds
with scientific names
Perhaps you should
do some research…
Humph-no, thank you!
I’ll keep looking
for soft, wispy
feathers, floating
against the blue
Forgot to Remember
With pinpointed laser focus,
I move through a tunnel
of my own making
Eyes staring straight ahead
Everything in my periphery,
blurred
Just make it
to your destination
Tensions will ease
Where am I heading,
anyway? I forgot to remember.
The tunnel walls concealed
my dazed distraction, creating
a false sense of direction
toward a desired destination
Or whatever it is I’m seeking.
Peace? But peace is not a destination.
Peace shines through a single ray of sunlight
piercing the clouds to my right
Peace sings with the birds playing leapfrog
on the power lines to my left
Peace smiles as I exit the tunnel
Opening my eyes and my heart
to this great big beautiful world
Simply Sunday
A poem and a few songs for you, dear friends. Much love-Kelley ❤️
Kelley Morris, piano
Kelley Morris, piano
Kelley Morris, piano
Kelley Morris, piano
State of the Heart
Are my hands open,
gently reaching?
Arms linked
in cooperation
Ears open to
understanding
—Or—
Are my hands clenched
into tight fists?
Arms stoically held
across my chest
Ears closed,
even to my own voice
I have choices-
And my choices
offer clues as to the
health of my heart
May my hands remain open
My arms graciously linked
And my ears, intent on listening
Simply Sunday
Take the photo
out of the frame
Hold it in your hand
Feel the precious paper
between your fingers
Study the image
An image someone
chose to capture
Were you there?
Was it before your time?
Is the one pictured
someone you know?
Someone you miss?
Perhaps it is a place
that holds meaning
Or simply beautiful scenery
Take the photo
out of the frame
Hold it in your heart
I wrote this after digging through photos at Mom’s last weekend. School photos, trips, holidays…family. I brought a few of them home. ❤️
Let Go of the Rope
I am standing in a field
holding tight to the
middle of a rope
A foolish attempt to
bring balance in an
unexpected tug-of-war
On my right, grief
grips the cord
with all its might
On my left, love
holds firm
Always fierce
Suddenly, I understand-
Neither one can let go
They are forever bound
Now I’m faced with a choice-
Allow the tug-of-war
to continue within me
or let go of the rope
Reach for images,
past and present,
patiently waiting in
the back of my mind
Watch, as grief and love
fall into each other,
simultaneously releasing
laughter and tears
I am lying in a field
having let go
of the rope-
Exhausted, grateful, content
Simply Sunday
Pearls of Wisdom
Their formation takes years-
A process hidden from sight
in the depths of the heart
A heart learning to wrap
life’s difficult bits
in opalescent layers
of mercy and grace
Not ignoring the irritants,
only processing-
Some taking longer to
transform than others
Yet, each one eventually
emerges- Iridescent gifts
of hope, love, and wisdom
A delicate string of
pearls, not displayed
around the neck, but in
the affectionate smiles of
those standing the closest
Morning Minute
Yesterday morning’s fog
held a tinge of pale pink
A slight relief from
recent grays
There was something
varied in its lifting as well
No intention of completely
disappearing into emerging
sunbeams – only hiding
for a bit – waiting for
an opportunity to once
again share its surprising tint
Patience – let the soft hues
permeate your dreams-
And who knows, your
soul may be soothed by
an appearance of peaceful
pink in tomorrow’s sunrise-
If you remember to look
A Shared Lament
Like unwanted vines
choking a rose bush, it
blocks the sun and rain
until delicate buds,
nearly ready to bloom
Whither and fade-
Their true colors
never allowed to
grace the garden
I would miss your
beautiful colors
even more than
those of the roses
So, let’s face our
grief together, and
let tears fall like a steady
rain, reviving wilted buds
And with open arms
invite others who are
hurting to join us until
we are wholly comforted
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5: 4
Piano Girl 