To My Future Husband


I hope you know I think of you often. Everytime I see a new couple getting engaged and married I wonder when it will be our turn. But as we both wait for God to bring us together, I do hope that you are spending your time glorifying Him. I pray that He is molding you now, while he is molding me. So that when we come together we shall be a marriage that is pleasing to Him. I wonder if you are praying for me the way I pray for you. Do you ever doubt that I exist? I admit sometimes usually late at night I do feel some doubt. It’s not that I have been waiting a long time or anything, it’s just that I am a peculiar girl with a peculiar set of interests. And I have never met anyone of the male species who have moved my heart and shared my interests. I believe that is because God is saving me for someone who I can share my passions with and truly understand them. At least what my heart wants so desperately to believe. I must warn you that at night when I’m left alone to my thoughts I question nearly everything I believe, I don’t know why. I’m always dying to have conversation with someone who will assure me that I’m overthinking things as usual. One day you will that person I talk to. Anyways I suppose I wrote this later because I’m affirming to myself that you are out there. And when we meet I hope you will be so tuned into God’s voice that you will have no doubt of who I am. Until the day comes be at peace when the loneliness comes that I am out there praying for you.




I Found You

I found you in the woods at the edge of the lake, staring into the distance, your mind faraway. Always the gallant soldier you took the worries of others on your shoulders. Your hands, scarred by the violence of war, were rubbing together furiously. It was almost as if there were some invisible substance on them you wanted to get off. I stood there for several minutes wondering what I should do or say. It always seems my words of comfort did nothing to help you. All I wanted was to help you carry the weight.

A snapping twig under my feet shook you from your trance. In my eyes I begged you to tell me your worries. But your hard eyes stayed steady-looking at me, you were not going to confide in me. Instead you smiled as to tell me not to worry and that you had everything under control. You waved me over to sit beside you and as I walked towards my heart was breaking. A little for the rejection of your confidence, but mostly for you. How much can a man bear before he breaks?

(c) T. Winns 2015

Photo: Original, taken by myself.

Fix Me

I have done it again.

I have loved the wrong one.

One whose heart and mind are not in sync.

One whose thrashing against the waves instead of flowing with them.

One whose eyes are not towards heaven.

Why am I drawn to the one room hearts instead of the ones where love can grow? 

Surely it will be the death of me.

How many times can a heart be reconstructed?

How many times can it close for repairs?

Fix me dear God because I’ve grown tired of this foolish heart of mine.

(c) 2015 Tawni W.


As I sit here gazing at your designs I contemplate your goodness.

You have taken the pebble that I was and turned it into a diamond.

Each day you polish me more and more so that I can reflect your light.

To think there was a time when I didn’t have you!

Who else can steady me in the gusting winds?

Or lead me out of a dense forest?

There is no one but you in all your glory.

The greatest artist of them all.

A Walking Paradox

It was like she moved within two planes of existence.  She was constantly flipping between both planes, not knowing which one to live in. Loving her was like loving two women at the same time. Each day I came home to her I did not know which woman would be there. She was wild but well-mannered, selfish but selfless, confident but insecure, kind but cold, fragile but firm. 

Dorina Costras

Still, what I loved most was when she was all of those things at the same time. When she melded the two sides of herself together, it was there she became gold. Not second guessing herself but embracing every paradox within her, it was there she shined like the sun. That’s how she was when I fell in love with her. 

Writing 101: The Things We Treasure

If you look around my room you won’t find anything with much value. You’ll see dozens of books and magazines, an old laptop, and a fair amount of jewelry. It’s nearly all costume jewelry I might add. I haven’t had the opportunity to purchase anything real for myself. There’s only one genuine piece of jewelry among it all, a gold heart-shaped locket given to me by parents many birthdays ago. I remember when I first saw it in the box. I closely examined the roses engraved on the front, I rubbed my fingers on the smooth back. It was exactly what I wanted. I had recently become obsessed with lockets after reading a book where the main character had one. It was her prized possession because it held the pictures of the family she’d lost. And so I wanted one too, not because I had lost my family but because I wanted to keep them close. I was so happy when my Dad finally put pictures inside it. The gift was finally complete. On one side a picture of my Mom and the other side my Dad, it was perfect. I told myself I’d never take it off, and for a while I didn’t. But being the fashionable girl I was, I realized gold lockets didn’t go with everything. Now here it is 10 plus years later and I’ve managed to hold on to it. It’s survived numerous moves within 3 states. For a person as disorganized as I am that is really a feat. I don’t where it much these days, it needs a new chain. But it’s still as beautiful as the day I received it.

Writing 101: 400 Words

400 words, well if I don’t think I have ever written 400 words on this blog. But here goes nothing. I’m realizing through Writing 101 that I not all interested in fiction. Especially if I have to base it on my own life. I’m not that interesting, I guess. Or maybe I just really like completely creating something out of nothing. There was a time when I was could have definitely seen myself doing fiction for the rest of my life, but now I don’t know. Poetry or prose is more my lane.

90 words in and I’m stumped. This is harder then I thought it would be.

Why I love poetry

I love poetry because its simple yet so effective. Isn’t it amazing the emotions it evokes in you. I love that there’s so many different types and kinds. Even from a young age poetry can have an effect on you. Shel Silverstein proved to be a favorite of mine as a kid. I would try to memorize them, I’d read them over and over. Sometimes I feel bad that I’m not super well read on all the great poets out there. But I know who they are and that’s good enough right?

Ok so I’m half way through. Now I remember why I don’t free write very much. Do they really expect me to post this? I need a prompt or something. 400 words, who has the time?