Tomorrow
brings another chance
to complete something unfinished,
until by day’s end
you need another tomorrow.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

Hallways
provide the freedom
to choose which direction
offers the best way
to escape from myself.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

Eyes filled with laughter,
sometimes with tears,
rebuke me when needed,
allay hidden fears.

Eyes filled with healing
conceal secret pains,
reflect what they’re seeing
with love that sustains.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

Rest this spirit and rest this brain,
both weary from the world’s refrain
of much to do before I start
to meet the needs within my heart.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

Waves roll to the shore
prepared to capture my toes
poised for surrender.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

My first reclaimed rose
from the abandoned garden
shows its grateful thanks.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

On any given day,
the horizon waits patiently
for eyes tainted by reality
to focus on the potential
of what remains obscured.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

Firmly attached
in the heat of summer,
a solitary leaf
releases its hold
on the branch that
sustained it.
It glides down,
its journey at an end,
as it joins other
weary travelers.
This gift
of nature’s creation
makes room
for its successor,
to follow
when the cycle of life
is renewed.


© Susan Schoeffield 2011

I’ve no great desire to be normal.
The thesaurus likens the word to
common, ordinary, and average.
Although it’s also considered to be
sound, reasonable and sane,
the concept of normal
doesn’t really appeal to me.
I’m much more drawn to the antonyms:
eccentric, unconventional and odd.
If I have to be something,
let me choose from that list
and resist normality’s banality. 



© Susan Schoeffield 2011

In the early days of springtime,
life is normally renewed,
but our journey hit a roadblock
and our bonds became unglued.

Our losses through the summer
left an unrelenting pain,
and our need to offer comfort
helped to minimize the strain.

Like the colors found in autumn,
what we lost became alive.
So instead of love decaying,
it found new ways to survive.

And unlike the final season,
with its barren, winter chill,
we found sparks in us rekindled
by a love that’s burning still.



© Susan Schoeffield 2011