Her red silk scarf
tossed aside in passion
lies still on dew kissed grass.
A slight breeze unfurls,
curls beneath its folds
ripples flow from edge to edge.
The morning storm
not expected,
rolls in stronger gusts.
Gossamer strands arc
higher and higher still
until vivid crimson
shatters darkened skies.
Come join me at the dawn
lift up your hopes,
lay bare your heart.
I promise this, my love
our dreams shall soar
with the morning sun.
In response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge: the dawn is symbolic of new beginnings.
In this place
we lived life without reins
walked quickly, surefooted and headstrong
enjoyed the sleep of youth, less but deep
savored black coffee and devoured Kierkegaard.
This hill
tread so many times
landscape changed, more green, more lush
more steps, surely higher, climb to a different space
new buildings rise above refurbished old.
The trees are bigger, the shade more dense
as we seek the shadows of our past.
The sun is a recluse today
exhausted from yesterday’s mirth,
dawn abandoned.
Grey blankets a rain-skewed world
as headlights appear
and disappear
through green wet treetops.
Windows shut tight
shades raised, not flapping
coffee brews and I wait,
staring through drips.
Time-deprived street-lights
shine their night-time faces,
as umbrellas bob through a labyrinth
of puddles on cement.
Tired eyes close, barely awake
I sense the city on a rainy morn.
Coffee gurgles, cars slosh through streets
and a wet flag clangs metal grommets
on its cold steel pole.
She slung words at him like wild pitches
and he shrugged them off for years.
Until one day,
she threw a perfect strike.
Well, what can I say?
The Red Sox are in the basement and we Boston fans need a bit of humor!
What stories will you tell?
Tales shared from mouth to mind
or those visible in sepia tones.
The giant oak’s shade
comfort for so many,
bark rough hewn and silent.
If I leave this place,
will you remember?
If I step into the shadows
blend into the crowd,
where will you be?
I will still be here
in your universe,
or not.
Chamber for metamorphosis
cells, toes, body, mind
meld, breathe, grow within
seek and find
passage to the world.
Cord nurtured life
cut, but not.
Tether stretches,
sometimes taunt
always there.
Fingers clasp, spirit touches
eyes smile, seek and find.
You were the beginning.
You are the constant star
an infinite circle of love.
Magic shoes! Shiny black with big looped bows
slabs of silver metal screwed on soles.
Best gift ever, when I was oh so young.
And oh how I remember…..
NOISE.
PURE NOISE!!!
Swing a leg. Stomp, march, slap, clang!!
Body all feet. ALL SOUNDS.
EVEN WHen i tiptoed.
Add lessons, Tuesdays at ten.
To learn.
Teacher teaches,
directs, muzzles.
Shu-ffle, shu-ffle.
Shu- no, NO, NO!
SHHHH!!!
Like-this.
Con-trol the-swing,
shor-ter. NOT so big.
Shu-ffle, shu-ffle.
One-two, one-two.
Slow-down. Con-trol the-sound.
Com-press your-space.
And there I was, in the mirrored wall,
shrinking. Like putting reins on little feet.
Learning to be small
while growing big.
Learning to fit in.
I was an Avon lady, in my very early days.
A diehard fan of the Bard that summer,
I fancied myself a Stratford woman.
Today? Well today, here I am.
Lounging in the sun, thirsty and hot
my blue rays turn them green
as I grab a dr. pepper,
antidote to drowsiness.
Stride-rite? But I lean left,
and still seek neverland.
I’ll choose to fly by Wendy’s
every time.
Kate spade dares my counter clubs
and I grimace as victoria’s secret
busts out everywhere.
Target? Not on my back.
The grammatically incorrect hermes
competes with christian dior.
Amen I say to that,
eyes wide shut.
I feel your pain,
branding seared into our hides.
