Simply Story Poetry

How attraction evolves into familiarity and love. This poem illustrates the journey from attraction to deep familiarity and love, highlighting how the relationship flourishes. It reflects the warmth of love and the growth of a strong friendship, emphasising the comfort and simplicity of their connection. Despite uncertainties and past emotional wounds, it holds hope for a future filled with shared experiences, including potential marriage and family. The poem expresses a desire for genuine acceptance and understanding, and the pure intent behind feelings.

Brian and I had been going steady for over a year. We contemplated what lies ahead for our relationship. Beverley Joy

From romance to love

I held your face in my hands, I looked into your eyes,

I smiled, I sighed.

My heart felt warm, it poured forth love,

A friendship was formed, of that I was sure

A love I hope will weather many a storm.

It does not demand, it’s just comfortable

It’s simple, it’s sincere, no need to fear

Its intent is pure, it’s demure.

I speak some words, and they come out wrong

I misconstrue; I confuse

If I write you a poem the words will speak

Smooth and true, honest and clear.

I mean no harm as I hesitate

My heart’s been bruised and the wounds go deep

Accept my embrace one by one, moment by moment as genuine.

Who knows where this new love may lead?

A wedding, children, extended family.

A home of our own with a garden and swings

A future together, hopefully.

Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry © 2015. All rights reserved.

Read or listen to my poems at ⁠⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠⁠ on ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠, ⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Beverley Joy

I really appreciate you listening to my poem. Beverley Joy

The vulnerability and emotional complexities of new love.

This poem highlights the awkwardness and uncertainty as Brian and Grace open their hearts to love. Despite a sense of playfulness and enthusiasm, an underlying struggle with self-doubt and the challenge of letting love in. It illustrates a push-and-pull dynamic between confidence and insecurity, reinforced by shifting emotions.

As Grace has recently left her relationship with Alex, her feelings for Brian will take time to grow.

Time Will Tell - Poem

Our eyes met, curiosity flared

We walked and talked, laughed and smiled

We sat close, and our energy rose.

The tone of his voice rumbled through my body,

He’s tall and handsome, and he made me laugh.

I dived in boots and all, I talked too much, shared my soul

Now I’m just feeling vulnerable.

Now it’s awkward, uncomfortable

The truth is revealed, my fate is sealed

I bubble with nerves and excitement

Why is he showing interest in me?

I must confess my question is 'Could he love somebody like me?'

More so, could I allow myself to let love run away with me?

I started out feeling strong and in control,

Now things look bleak, I’m weak at the knees.

I’m magnetised by his attention, 'You’re a willing, captive audience

Look at me, look at me, I dance, I sing, I write poetry.'

I thought I’d ticked off the ‘responsible’ chart

But when I took the test I didn’t pass

I try hard to work, but I think of you

To be responsible is proving impossible.

Have I made a mistake? I don’t feel right in this place

My emotional stats read like the share market chart.

I feel like popcorn in a pot, I laugh, I cry, I pray a lot

My passion looms in my thoughts of you

Am I too carefree? Will he accept me?

I don't feel comfortable in my own skin

It’s not so much could he love me

For I feel sure he could love me dear

It’s more can I let love flow free?

Well, I guess, only time will tell.

Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry 2010 © All rights reserved.

Read or listen to my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠. Beverley Joy

You can read my poems and the excerpts from the story Wilted No More, which is the sequel story to the book The Wilted Rose, written by Kate Kelsen at Simply Story Poetry on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, YouTube, LinkedIn and at simplystorypoetry.com.

Enjoy this series of poems of love. Beverley Joy.

The vulnerability and excitement of a first date for young adult love. My life story up to the age of 18 is told in the book The Wilted Rose.

My teenage relationship with Alex only lasted one year. Melbourne, Victoria, was too cold for me, just as my puppy love for Alex had grown cold. In 1980, I returned to Brisbane, Queensland. Grace moved into a two bedroom flat with my best friend from high school. I started a full-time administration job at a bank in Brisbane CBD and bought a secondhand car.

I went to a disastrous Christmas party with Brian, 21, as my blind date, a friend of a work colleague. It was set to be a romantic boat party, floating up and down the Brisbane River. Brian ignored me all evening, dancing and drinking with a female work colleague, while I stood awkwardly among the partygoers, knowing only my friend who set up the blind date and kept apologising profusely.

Even though Brian shared the last dance with me before driving me home, I decided he obviously wasn't interested in me. Unimpressed by his rude behaviour, I didn't want to go out with him again.

But Brian called me on the house telephone the next day. He apologised for his selfish behaviour at the party and invited me out on a proper date to a fancy city restaurant on Queen Street, Brisbane. I nervously accepted, giving him a second chance to prove himself a gentleman.

The date was old-fashioned and picture-perfect, like something out of a romantic movie. We were dressed in formal attire. He picked me up in a fancy car and drove me to a five-star restaurant, where we ate seafood and drank champagne, chatting as we looked out over the city's river lights from our intimate table for two.

This poem reflects their first romantic date as young adults.

Beverley Joy.

The first date

The clock was ticking, I was waiting to hear your footsteps at my door

So romantic, so debonair, I basked in your adoring flair.

As you entered into my world, I nervously tripped on my words

Awkward glances, friendly banter.

I said too much, I went on and on revealing my heart, opening my soul

It left me feeling vulnerable, 'Will I regret it tomorrow?'

I came out of my shell feeling happy and whole

But is that the me that he wants to see?

Throughout the date, we reminisced over common interests and music

We shared our stories of adventures and dreams, past, present, and future.

'Am I over the top? Was I too much? Will he reconsider or prefer someone else?'

I’ve lived my life as a captive bird; now the cage is flung open, I’ll fly upward

It feels so strange, so alien, that I might fly back in and hide again.

No one ‘knows’ me, I don’t ‘know’ myself, but I like what I feel, it’s exciting stuff.

Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry 2012. All rights reserved.

Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠, ⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠

Thank you for listening. Beverley Joy.

Enduring virtues and character of a gentleman. This poem lovingly describes the gentleman's enduring virtues and character, from love and dedication in marriage to commitment as a partner, father, son, and friend.

The expression 'Gentleman' is not used very often anymore. The meaning of this word has shifted throughout history, from an early English term for an adult male who owns property and earns more than a manual labourer.

The modern meaning of the word 'Gentleman' describes the character and behaviour of an adult male, including integrity, kindness, politeness, and respect for others.

I originally wrote this poem for my two wonderful brothers, who are true gentlemen.

In loving memory of my dad, who passed away in 2025 at 95. Beverley Joy

The Qualities of a Gentleman Poem

“What do you see in me?” he asked

“A gentleman is what I see.”

“A gentleman”, he laughed.

"Yes" I said confidently, “Please let me explain.”

I saw a young man who won the true love of a young woman

And as one, their love flourished.

Then, I saw a fiancé whose strong, rugged hands

Softly and tenderly embraced his sweetheart.

Now, I see a husband whose gentle embrace

Engulfs her in peace and protects her from harm.

I see a mature man with old-fashioned values

Weathered and wrinkled from the harsh Australian sun.

I see a father who devoted his youth

To raise his children and provide for his family.

I see a working man who goes the extra mile

Proud of his work ethic, striving for the best.

I see a handsome man who likes to dress smart

Who looks quite charming in suit and tie.

I see a grown man who sheds a tear silently

Then wipes it dry and soldiers on positively.

I see a family man who longs to embrace

Loved ones lost through death or distance.

I see a healthy man who has suffered through illness

But still wants to regain life in its fullness.

I see a brother whose warm smile enchants

Who loves and approves of who I am.

I see a mate whose kind laughter is heard

Infectiously causing laughter in return.

I see a son who gave comfort

To his ageing parents with loyalty and love.

I see a gentleman whose gentle, kind nature

Relaxes people and banishes their fear.

Outside appearance doesn’t matter to me

I see his soul and spirit

Unique and special

God’s gift to his family.

Beverley Joy © 2014 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved.

You can read my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠.

Thank you for listening.

Women visit Jesus' tomb on Easter morning. It is the story of Mary Magdalene at the tomb on that first Easter Sunday morning. 

Mary Magdalene and other women visit Jesus' tomb on Easter morning and find it empty. After encountering angels and witnessing Jesus, Mary spreads the news. Her deep sorrow turns to joy as she becomes the first to share the gospel message.

The two feature images I edited together depict Mary's deep sorrow at the cross and her joy at the risen Lord, which soon reaches its height.

The Passion of Mary Magdalene

As the sun rose on that Sunday morning

Several women went to the tomb

They took the spices they had prepared

To complete the burial ritual. 

The tomb was open when they arrived

The large entrance stone was rolled aside

They went inside, but they did not find

The body of their Saviour, Jesus Christ. 

As they stood there puzzled, two men appeared

Clothed in white robes, sitting to one side

“Are you looking for Jesus, who was crucified?"

The women bowed to the ground; they were terrified.

“Don’t be alarmed. He isn’t here! He has risen from the dead!

Jesus said it would happen this way. Don't you remember what He said?"

Now go and tell his disciples what you've heard and seen

And that Jesus will meet them soon in Galilee."

The women ran quickly from the tomb

They were so frightened, but also filled with joy

But the story sounded like nonsense to the men

They didn’t believe what the women had said.

But two disciples ran to the tomb to see

The cloth lay where Jesus' body had been

Once they saw for themselves, they believed

They went home wondering, "What has happened?"

Mary Magdalene, back at the garden tomb

Crying, she stooped and looked inside

The two angels asked, “Why do you cry?”

"They've taken my Lord, and I don’t know where or why.”

She turned to leave and saw the gardener standing near

“Why are you crying?” “Who are you looking for?”

“Sir, tell me where you have put him, so I can go and get him.”

She cried through tear-stained eyes.

“Mary”, Jesus gently called her name

Wiping her tears, she searched His eyes

She recognized His calming voice

His face, His frame, it was Her Lord.

“Teacher”, she whispered in wonder and awe

Her despair turns to future hope

From the darkness of sorrow to the light of joy

From the separation of death to eternal life.

She fell on Him, clinging tight

He was real, a human, not a ghost

Never again would she let Him go

Now things would be as they were before.

“Don’t cling to me,” Jesus gently said

Helping her to compose herself

“Go tell my brothers this message

‘To our Father, to our God, I will ascend."

The risen Jesus had appeared in the flesh

Not to rulers and kings, nor His disciples

But to a woman whose life He had saved

Who had followed Jesus to His grave.

A humble woman now honoured by God

The first man or woman to see the Risen Lord

And hear the first words from His lips

And be the first to spread the gospel message.

There stood a man and a woman in a garden

Jesus, the new Adam, and Mary Magdalene

The power of His resurrection

Give eternal freedom and redemption.

The power of death broken in this new garden

Jesus paid the debt of God's judgment

And put right the Garden of Eden's fall

Now man is restored, redeemed, and transformed.

Mary Magdalene ran to tell the men

The gospel message, the good news

“I have seen the Lord!” My Saviour is alive.

Jesus conquered death for all of us

The power of His resurrection

Is the power of a new creation

A time of joy and celebration.

The passionate love of God for us

His longing, desire, and joy have come

For reconciliation between God and His creation...

Read the full poem on the website.

You can read my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠.Thank you for encouraging me by listening to my poem. Beverley Joy.

The Easter Bible story. This Christian poem is Part One of two Easter poems. It tells the story of the few faithful women, including Mary Magdalene, who cooked, helped, and supported Jesus as He travelled through townships and villages, preaching, healing, and teaching His disciples. They were faithful right to the end of His life. The poem is told through the eyes of these few faithful women - what they saw, heard and felt during the last few days of Jesus' life. 

A Few Faithful WomenMary grew up in thriving Magdala

A town on the banks of the Sea of Galilee

But Mary Magdalene did not thrive in life

For demons controlled her mind.

Living in a nightmare of mental illness

Haunted by evil monsters and villains

That chased her away from life's simple pleasures

Into dark valleys of misery and torture.

Jesus looked through her with knowing eyes

‘Mary' He said, neither afraid nor repulsed

"Leave her." He commanded the demonic spirit

There she stood with her Saviour in her right mind.

Now at peace, like the troubled sea, Jesus once calmed

Her nightmare was finished, her new life had begun

She devoted her life to those she owed so much

In deep gratitude for God's mercy and love.

Mary Magdalene witnessed and listened

Stirred and surprised by Jesus' teaching and healing

Now surrounded by friends who loved and cared

Pure joy to a woman unaccustomed to joy.

Mary followed with His disciples and other women

Who had also been cured of evil spirits and diseases

The women lived, served, and supported them

As Jesus travelled through townships, preaching and healing.

Mary and the women served Jesus to the end

Along His final journey to Jerusalem

Crowds no longer gathered to listen to Him

Close friends and disciples had deserted him.

Mary saw religious men thirsty for His blood

She listened as Pilate pronounced His death sentence

She felt angry at the injustice of an innocent man

She wept to see Him tortured by the soldiers of Rome.

She watched Him fall under the weight of His cross

His flesh was stripped from his back from the cruel beating

As Jesus struggled to climb the hill to death

Mary watched helplessly as her Saviour bled.

Mary stood near the cross with the other women

They heard the hammering of nails through his flesh

They watched as Jesus shunned the pain relief drink

And the soldiers laughed and gambled for his cloak.

These women who loved him listened and cried

As the religious men and people passing by

Shouted abuse and mocked, “Look at you now!”

“You saved others, but you can’t save yourself."

They listened in disgust as the criminals beside Him

Joined in the ridicule of him, except one

Who begged Him for mercy, and through pain, Jesus said

"Today I will see you in paradise.”

For three hours, darkness fell across the land

The crowds thinned out, yet the women stayed

Then Jesus cried out in agony to God

They listened, helpless to relieve His pain.

Mary and the other faithful women

Listened to Jesus forgive His enemies

Then cried, "It is finished", and bowed His head

Then Jesus cried out and breathed his last breath.

The earth shook, and the rocks split apart

The women cried their final goodbye

The soldiers, who once mocked, were now terrified

Confessing “He truly was the Son of God!”

They had humbly followed Jesus

Serving selflessly behind the scenes

Right to the end, under suffering and tears

With persistence and faithfulness.

The faithful women still standing by

Watched the soldiers cripple the two criminals

But even though Jesus was already dead

A soldier speared Him through His side.

Mary Magdalene and a few of the women

Approached two unknown followers of Jesus

Who took His bloodied body down from the cross

And wrapped it in ceremonial spices and cloth...

Read the full poem on the website.

You can read my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠.I appreciate you taking the time to listen to my poem. Beverley Joy.

A prisoner's encounter with God. I wrote this Christian poem while serving as a prison chaplain in a men's high-security prison. I went inside the prison each week with a male Chaplain. We were allowed to sit and chat with prisoners in the common area, inside the cell blocks. I often felt like I was a spectator watching in amazement at how God was working in the prison through the Bible, which was often read by the prisoners while they were locked in their cells.

This poem is a true story of one such prisoner, a young adult who had never been involved with God or Christianity before. He was covered in tattoos, and my partner Chaplain and I had never spoken to him before this event.

Prison Fellowship is a worldwide organisation that offers Prison Chaplaincy and reformative services. Most major Christian denominations also have volunteer Prison Chaplains. Let's pray for and support the Chaplains who volunteer their time to visit prisons around the world each week, sharing God's love and forgiveness with prisoners and helping transform their lives. Beverley Joy.

Imprisoned by God's Love

The steel door locked behind us

A prisoner approached, excited

Tattooed face, intense eyes

We said, “Giday, how can we help?”

“Are you the Chaplains?

I must talk with you?”

So, we sat at a table, cold and steel

And we listened in wonder as he told us his story…

“I woke up yesterday with a voice in my head

Saying “Go, talk with the Chaplain. Ask him what Jesus did.”

“This voice in my head, I could not ignore

It was so persistent, so clear, so sure."

The prisoner shook his head in bewilderment

“I’ve never thought about Jesus or God

Or read the Bible or go to church

Never wanted to, never cared.”

He had never spoken to a Chaplain

It was considered uncool, embarrassing

But that morning, he rushed over, keen to tell us about his dream.

"I sat and listened to the chaplain

As he explained what God had done

And how much Jesus loves me

And that God will forgive my sins.”

“My eyes were opened, I felt free in prison

God’s love and forgiveness invaded me

Amazing peace washed through my veins

As I prayed to God, the sinner’s prayer.”

“I can’t read very well

But he gave me a bible and a devotional

I read it every night, locked in my cell

Alone with God, I read and pray.”

"I want to go to the church service every week

With my new mate, who’s a Christian

I want to sing and hear Chappy’s prayers

That will remind me I’m loved and forgiven."

It was hard for him to believe

That God has forgiven him of his sins

He doesn't understand all he reads in God’s Book  

But, deep down, he believes it is true.

He continues to struggle from day to day

With past addictions and his mental health

But with a nod and a smile, he chats

With the Chaplains who visit prisoners each week.

Beverley Joy © 2018 Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved.

Image by AgnieszkaMonk from Pixabay

Image by Werner Moser from Pixabay

Music by Tunetank from Pixabay

Music by Alex Guz from Pixabay

Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

I really appreciate you listening to my poem.

Thank you for listening.

A metaphor of life as a tapestry. This poem visualises life as a tapestry, woven from threads of varying lengths, colours, and textures. Each individual's life is depicted as a unique piece of art. While each tapestry is unique, common life experiences bind us together across different cultures and communities, reinforcing the interconnectedness of humanity. Ultimately, the beauty of life's tapestry lies in its variety and hues. Beverley Joy

Life is a Tapestry

A tapestry sewn through the warp and weft of life

Threads of different lengths, colours, and textures

Short, dark threads and long, light shades

The silky smooth and the rough to touch.

Our tapestry of life can look dark and stormy

At other times, calm and bright

All threads sew various colours into our lives

Some are finished quickly, others take a long time.

Life is sewn with different textures

Each thread has a beginning and an ending

Some cover large areas, others just a few stitches

Adding quality and character to our stories.

Coarse threads stitch a tree trunk, strong and rough

Reflect on rough times in life and the strength required

Tones of green leaves give protection from storms and heat

Threads soft and pastel form delicate flower petals

Reflect the fragrant pleasures and moments we treasure.

The sewer carefully follows the instructions

Sewing threads short and long, colours vary until completion

Individual tapestries, yet the colours are universal

No matter what country or culture, we share some ventures.

Many loved ones live long lives, while some are cut short in time

Health and sickness come and stay or fall away

The goodbye of death, the welcome of a newborn

The joy of marriage, the sorrow of divorce.

When the last thread is tied off, the picture is complete

The beauty of life's tapestry lies in its hues and variety.

Beverley Joy © 2026 Simply Story Poetry. All rights reserved.

Photo by Amirhossein Kianbakht

Photo by Compagnons on Unsplash

Music by Tunetank from Pixabay

Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com

⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠I really appreciate you listening to my poem.

Thank you for listening.

Shared life experiences within communities. This poem explores the shared human experience and the connections between individuals. The challenges, life lessons, and aspirations for truth, joy, and harmony within familiar settings of cities and communities where people navigate life's ups and downs together. Through laughter and tears, familiar ties that bind us through relationships among family, friends, and even strangers. The universal nature of love and care reinforces the idea that, despite our diversity, we share important similarities in our lives. Beverley Joy

Familiar Diversity

My voice, your voice

My challenge, your challenge 

My life lessons, your life lessons

My courage, your courage.

We live in familiar countries and cities

We walk and shop along crowded streets

Meetup within our communities

We want truth, joy and harmony.

We laugh and cry, stumble and rise

We breathe the same air, we love and care

Sister and brother, father and mother

Friends and lovers, colleagues and strangers.

Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry © 2026 All rights reserved

Image by David Bruyland from Pixabay

Music by Olivia Bennett from Pixabay

Read or listen to my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠.

Thank you for listening.

This poem uses the rose as a metaphor for life’s beauty and pain, illustrating resilience amid hardships. The rose endures nature's elements and flourishes despite its delicate vulnerability.

The Wilted Rose book ends with Grace leaving home at 18. Though The Wilted Rose concludes, Grace's pursuit of true love continues. Though her mother's life wilted in mental illness, Grace's adult life was beginning. Full of hopes and dreams of love and happiness, just as her mother had decades earlier, Grace was determined to forge a brighter, healthier future for herself than her mother had lived, and it started with moving far away from the strict religion of her youth and her mother. 

The Rose Poem

Petals so delicate, soft and fragrant, drenched in rich coloured hues of orange and yellow.

Layered and wrapped, petals holding each other, unfold to reveal a tender heart at the centre.

Easily bruised, tossed about by the wind, the sun’s heat gives energy, and the rain gives nourishment.

The rose, admired by many and considered precious, its sweet gentle fragrance is received with pleasure.

Yet cursed by some who, in pure ignorance, handle it carelessly, then blame it for their wound.

The rose fulfils its purpose, not wanting to be another, content to be of its own kind of flower.

The rose does not wish it was a tree, tall and strong, living long.

It simply accepts nature's nourishment and surrenders to that which is greater than itself.

Its presence and fame never fail to display the splendour and wonder of this flower so frail.

When it’s drenched with rain, it doesn’t complain

When the sun’s heat scorches, it turns to face it.

I see how my life reflects that of a rose; I, too, am easily bruised.

And feel tossed about by the winds of hardship and pain.

I’m admired by some and precious to them; my sweet, gentle nature, they receive with pleasure.

I am cursed by some and blamed for their pain; both parties feel hurt, for they misunderstand.

When life scorches and drenches my heart, I am soon revived and able to thrive. 

The Rose and I both require harsh elements to blossom into full bloom.

Beverley Joy © 2014 Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved.

Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, Pinterest, LinkedIn and at simplystorypoetry.com.

May your life be filled with love and hope. Beverley Joy.