Nancy Ann Creed

  Photo by Mike González on Pexels.com The Echo of Regret: A Vow Against Futility The shadow falls, a failure in my sight, Disappointment's echo, haunting day and night. Regret's cold hand upon my waking thought, A hollow dream, the battle that we fought. A profound, persistent ache resides within, A deep, visceral wound where grief begins. Each time the news arrives, a soul has gone, The numbers climb, yet tragedy lives on. For those now lost within the heavy fog, This deep despair, no fleeting shadow slog, It raises questions that torment the soul: How could we shield them, how regain control? What could I, personally, have done to reach, To pull them back, beyond the final beach? Why do such vibrant lives, with potential vast, End in this final, devastating, broken blast? The pain, a sickening, immediate jolt, A punch that leaves me breathless and unbolt. Another one lost, a cycle we can't cease, The repetition numbs, yet sharp remains the piece. A desperate cry...

  Photo by Nicole Michalou on Pexels.com Holiday Bliss The year turns slow, a measured, quiet grace, The final, faded green surrenders place. The frost begins to cling, a crystal sheen, Upon the windowpane, a painted scene. And through the air, a certain sweet note rings, The hushed anticipation that it brings. The scent of pine, a memory held dear, The flicker of the flame that conquers fear. The simple joy of calling out a name, A bond rekindled in the hearth's warm frame. For in this season, when the world grows dim, We gather close—the sturdy branch upon the limb. The laughter spills from kitchens warm and bright, A symphony of comfort, pure delight. Reflecting back the twinkling festive light, That chases shadows from the longest night. The worn traditions, comforting and deep, The silent vows the generations keep. The treasured tales the passing years will house, Whispered from grandmother to the spouse. A mother’s gentle touch, a father’s quiet gaze, The simple, stu...