You’re slipping away, hun.
I’m forgetting you.
And time sure robs my memory of eyes a headstrong blue.
The flushed red pain across my cheeks barely show at all-
For when I’m away from family
I’ll stop to feel the gall.
But lingering a moment less
each time I sit away,
Have got me where I feel the least,
and I move on with my day.
But I fear I’ll forget you completely
And all the memories will turn gray.
You were someone in my life
and I’ll never give that away.
Will you ever read these words,
where my heart I wring out and squeeze?
I’m sorry if I forget you,
But please remember me.
It’s a confining, expanding, single space. A place to go when there’s no more race. The babysitter, hairdresser, back for the baby. Forcibly smile with the sitter maybe.
I’m where society leaves me be, a place where I feel no vulnerability. All know a place they can sit and recline. Or work outside if they feel so inclined.
Just be, you see. I’ll sit down and read. There’s nowhere else I’d rather roam, than in the confines of my home.
It’s eight-o-clock and the cake will take ten more minutes, but I’m needed as little hands reach up.
My favorite part of bedtime is here, when we nurse and rock to sleep. The lights are dim as the chair creaks just a little. Her eyes close and her body feels sure in its place on my lap. Mama loves you. How secure she feels. I linger for two more minutes- five, till I smell the cake through the house. Can I pull myself away?
Gingerly laying her in her crib, I tuck her quilt around her sides. “I love you,” I whisper once- then twice, not keeping track of the times, and slip out the door, heart full.
And I’m filled with a deep nestling in my heart. It’s an echo of a thousand mothers before whispering, “I love you.” And I fall asleep to other things.
Hello again my pen and scroll.
With words on the brim
I’m on a roll.
Hello high tide words so deep
coming to me on
the couch I sink.
Hello me, it’s been awhile.
Breathing and tapping
this online file.
Oh hello again Write and Erase.
No paper and pen
could my thoughts release.
Thanks again glowing friend,
a snapshot of thoughts.
Now into the void I send.
The smouldering body that remains
was drenched in flames last night.
A steady heart still sounds today
though wearied from the fight.
“Each beat could be the last,” I said.
“No, not yet,” I replied.
I’m evergreen, like pine.
I’m a dance on the hands of time.
Life cannot beat the courage from me. Not as long as I can rhyme.
There’s a soul inside me
and even if I die
I’ll live on in eternity
with loved ones by my side.
And there will be no pain,
pride nor coward be.
Just a dusty memory
and what courage rewarded me.
I die every day you frown at me,
but smiling makes it flee.
Who knew that by loving you,
I’d find the better me.
the ache that went away.
It stopped beating yesterday.
hard, but alive,
a sleeping beehive.
Hummingly, sweetly sleeping bee.
done with vulnerbility.
No more holding my hand,
unchained, a child leaving,
a woman weaving,
dying, still hurting
still caring, but lessening.
growing older, away.
The wisdom’s snail paced.
Accept it’s not always your way.
A wave of relief, made by the sound of my steady heart
rang loud in my ears
-he loves me.
A wrinkled brow ends with the heat of his chest, not a care in the world
-he loves me.
My mind is as crystal and clear as spring water, not a sound of a demon in there
-he loves me.
I could dance, maybe fly, to him words I confide, with no worry at all
-he loves me.
His love is not quite ordinary, the way he shows me mine.
The dearth some days consuming,
other ones do shine.
Even when waning moon doth beg
for the day to turn anew,
His softly uttered suplication
turns away my blues.
Maybe we pair are typical,
with bits of joy and heartache.
Our brimming hearts still love, overfill and sometimes break.
He couldn’t fill my lack that stacks. My heart; that yearn that burns, my unsteady head. My longing pining, whining, crying, “come to me”. There are no more words so stern, the steady head right now. Just me listening to the high tide words so deep, just need to sleep. It strikes my senses, wet ink spreading, words of incense intoxicating. Palpable is my glum, there is no rule of thumb. I’m alone, my mother’s busy. While others snuggle, I’m caught in a muddle.