One solid thread running beside us,
hanging between us–
linking your life to mine.
So fragile and delicate,
our futures swing, suspended by
colored strings with glitter,
with beads, day dreams and echoes
of long forgotten lullabies.
If you could come to life, I would set you free.
renegade watercolor shades
of blues and pinks–
lilacs in the sky,
violets on the horizon–
a suggestion of moons,
the taste of soft pink summer plums
waiting to be savored
When I am very old, I want to remember the shades of green in a meadow where horses grazed and hawks cried in the distance the day I dropped her off for a long weekend. I want to taste the ice cream we had at a roadside shop and hear the echo of the pup’s bark on the rolling hills. I want to stamp the feeling of freedom and contentment into my soul and keep it safe and protected forever.
your mischievous face
can be shy or enticing
or even slightly snarky,
which makes me love you all the more
small shells,
a found marble,
soft sea glass and
a tiny cut crystal
Be free, be strong, be smart, be kind,
be independent and know that I believe in you.
A casual summer conversation many years ago:
Me: “Your chlamydia is beautiful.”
Neighbor (with a slight stammer): “Thank you.”
Sometimes dahlias instead of roses,
or sand storms instead of rain,
can seem misguided and be misjudged.
There are times when the obvious,
is not quite the right choice.
The fog lifts and the day begins anew.
spanishwoods 