In a remembered hour, wine colored circles expand around an amber-hued memory.
Spiraling down a tunnel; drifting, darkness, decay.
Expecting not to be rescued; God reached for me, anyway.
Jenny W. Andrews Copyright 2020
I am currently working on a second poetry collection. I plan to include this poem in that collection. I am including my original photography, as well.
Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.