Maya Angelou writes,
"When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I CRY. "
All manner of things and ideas and people beckon us.
Sometimes our response to this invitation brings joy.
Sometimes grief or pain.
Sometimes both.
But still we must keep responding when LOVE beckons to us.
May we respond to the invitations this days offers us.
"When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I CRY. "
All manner of things and ideas and people beckon us.
Sometimes our response to this invitation brings joy.
Sometimes grief or pain.
Sometimes both.
But still we must keep responding when LOVE beckons to us.
May we respond to the invitations this days offers us.
BECKON
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