It is difficult
To remember
The me who
Once was seven
Do you find the same to be true?
Oh, there are glimpses
Flashes of childhood
Aided by photographs
And the reciting
Of stories at
Family gatherings-
I believe at seven
Happy outweighed sad
And freedom came
When swinging way up high
High enough to touch the sky
Then bravely jumping out
It is difficult
To remember
The me who
Once was seven
But I am grateful
For her spirit
Continuing
To reside in me
Even when I’m afraid
To jump out of the swing
Tag: aging
Not a Thief
Colors fading
Frail frame
Shivers
Awaiting
Winter’s coat
Yet, in the light
Of the morning sun
Beauty shines
Unmistakable
In a life well-lived
Grace on display-
Perhaps time
Is not a thief
Afterall
And instead
Brings us
To a place
Of inspiration
Able to set
A wise example
For those afraid
Of what’s to come-
Reassurance
Revealed
In the wisdom
Of so many seasons
Come and gone
Who Are You?
There is a
Familiarity
In that face
A recollection
Behind those eyes
Curious though
Something
Is missing
A sparkle
In the blues
A sweetness
In the smile
Oh, don’t worry
They have been
Invited to return
And I have
A feeling
They may arrive
Tomorrow morning
About the time
I look in the mirror
Do you ever look in the mirror and think-Who is this person? They do not look like I remember. I think this happens more often the older I get. I am learning to appreciate the changes I see. And to recognize when that reflection says-You need a little extra care today. ❤️
Time Warp
Such an odd way
To keep track
Births and deaths
Life and love
Captured in
The minuscule of
Days, months, years…
Blocks on a chart
Giving the appearance
Of logic and
Organization
Life is anything but–
In certain instances
One experience
Can cause a
Shocking whiplash
Taking me from
The Present
To the Past
Then the Future
A flash of light
Revealing what
Time has passed
And where I may be
Once that same
Amount of time
Passes by again-
Not measured
By Perfect
Little squares
In even rows
But by a heart
Carrying each beat
Every breath,
Each smile,
And every tear
That fills this living
A Perfect Day
Clean haircut
Refreshing
Especially after
More than a week
Of laying in
A hospital bed
Pleasant drive
Past the lake
And back
Sweetheart
By his side
Drive-thru
Grilled
Chicken
Salad
Unsweet tea
Sweetly
Predictable
Quiet evening
At home
Thankful
To be there
Watching
Grand Ole Opry
On the T.V.
One of his
Favorites
Stayed awake
Past ten o’clock
Sweetly
Unusual
A perfect
Last day
This side
Of heaven
For a quiet
Man of faith
Who could not
Possibly know
The far reaches
Of his influence
I thought I heard his voice yesterday. Keep waiting for him to walk down the hallway or see him standing in the kitchen. Wishing he was sitting in his chair instead of me. I know he’s no longer here, but my heart won’t let me stop looking.
My dad worked hard his whole life. His rough hands offered proof. Health issues these past few years forced him to slow down. No more hammers, nails, lumber, or ladders. I know it was hard for him at times. But he rarely complained. Even when reminded to use his cane for balance, to wear his hearing aids, or asked where his glasses were.
There is so much to remember. So much to share. But today, I am thinking about the last day. It was a good one. ❤️
When I Grow Up
The question
We always ask
Our children
What do you
Want to be
When you
Grow up?
It’s funny
I seem to be
Answering
That question
For myself
These days-
When I grow up
I want to hold
Your tiny hand
Watch your breath
Rise and fall
In the smallest
Of motions
Hear your cries
Comfort your fears
Feel the complete joy
Only found
In the heaviness
Of rocking
Back and forth
In our favorite chair
Reading our favorite stories
Singing our favorite songs
My heart younger
As yours grows stronger
Hello Stranger
I saw you
Ten years
From now
Or maybe
It was fifteen
My perception
Of time seems
To be changing
With its passing
In any case
It certainly could
Have been you
Or at least
The future you
I sometimes imagine…
Faded jeans
Plaid shirt
White hair
Just a little
On the sides
Perhaps a little shorter
We do eventually
Start shrinking
Purposefully walking
Into a local
Coffee shop
I smiled but refrained
From saying hello
Wonder if he’s picking up a London Fog just for me?
Missing the Quiet
Morning whispers
From a cool
Breeze as it
Wakens the trees
Mid-day melodies
Sweetly strung
Across the sky
Celebrating blue
Evening laughter
From familiar voices
Around the table
Listening…no need to speak
Middle-of-the-night
Soft breaths
From the rise
And fall of
A newborn’s chest
Resting against mine
As we gently rock-
I can still hear them
As I crawl back into bed
Place my hand on your chest
And wait for sleep to come
Take My Advice
Don’t blink
You might miss
Something
I suppose
The helpfulness
Of that advice
Depends on the
Something
Today, for me
It was a tree
First spotted last week
Soaking in the rain
Its leaves shining
Ruby red in the
Autumn breeze
Awake and alive
Capturing the attention
Of all who passed by-
One week later
The color has faded
Leaves have fallen
And yet, the tree
Remains strong
Standing beautiful
Another unseen ring
Added to its heart
So glad I didn’t blink
About Wrinkles
I am choosing
To view wrinkles
In a new light
Especially after
Noticing them
On my eyelids
How does that even happen?
The eyeliner applied resembling
A jagged Jack-O-Lantern smile
Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating
But it did introduce
A new line of questioning
What caused the lines framing my mouth?
Smiling countless smiles
Lines drawn from the corners of my eyes?
Squinting from the brightness of a warm sun
Lines gracing my forehead?
A bit of worry over the ones I love-
All these answers are signs
Traces of living
A life not ready
To be erased
Or to be forgotten
Piano Girl 