My days are rolling

The road is heavy

Mud soaked shoes tread lightly

But my pack drags

Carrying truths I offload

And leave here

To be lost in the French hills

Rain tips me down

Spots of sunshine

Pull out my smile

As marchers pull forward

Following the signs till the end

Pulling each other on

Each with a purpose

A question echo’d on lips

Family and bonds created

Within each Gite, bread broken

And funny stories shared

The marche

A right of passage

All must pay a toll

Some heavier than others

But all leave a weight

Off their back

Lighter than before

You return for normality

Dreaming of the hills left

And the peace of the way

Published by


I can come in many labels, many boxes, a divorcee, survivor, traveler, writer, optimist. But these labels only limit me to who I am at this point in time. But as you will read on my blog, I am my journey. I hope you will enjoy walking this path with me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s