Wednesday, July 2, 2014

An Old Journal Entry



September 28, 1996
"Oktobre Winds of Change is my name" she said to the butterfly. And it glided past her unnoticed by the eyes of those around her. A crow as black as oil floated across the grey fall sky calling out to her, "Hear me, child, for we are always here watching over you...never far from the one we call our Queen." Her eyes wandered to the red, gold and green tree tops swaying in the breeze. She wished she could block out the sound of the cars passing by so she could hear what her heart was trying to say to her. "Give me strength, give me knowledge," was her silent prayer to heaven.