Here we go again, another struggle on its way.

It isn’t mine, but she tries to lay it at my feet.

How did this happen, this confusion and dismay?

Every direction turns into her latest defeat.

I have to hold my tongue and direct;

With tears, it isn’t time to correct.

So, I let her collect her thoughts,

Find her peace, practice mindfulness,

Honestly, though, I’m tired of the oughts.

All this drama is sadly senseless.

She needs to do what she’s got to do,

Don’t make me make the decision for you.

Glints of lights bounce around,

Glitter reflecting candlelight,

Twirling about in wooden floors,

For a few moments, the world was all right.

Joyful music filled the spacious hall,

A lively clamor from wall to wall.

Hand holding and dancing close,

Tuxedos and shimmery dresses,

A fanciful buffet spread served,

And away went all of the stresses.

Tonight was a night full of dreams,

When hearts burst at the seams.

The final songs are softly played,

The lights dim, the crowd disappears,

Quietly they stroll outside,

Arm in arm, full of good cheers

The gala and finery was more than they’d know,

The evening closed with beautiful fireworks aglow.

Cheap streamers and sparklers about,

The reality they actually did not see,

Store bought trays of cheese and dessert,

It was all their minds’ own fantasy.

Their hearts and their hands fit like a glove,

Nothing else mattered except their true love.

Two skinny trees, hiding in the corner, called to her. She finally found what she sought after keeping an eye out for a couple weeks. They were almost skipped; she’d only stepped into the area of the garden shop to look at something else when they caught her attention.

Three segments, a stand and three screws, times two, and they were now hers to adorn the dining room. Tall and skinny, they were perfect for the space. Next some warm twinkling lights and mesh ribbon to make them glow.

Sitting aside the giant wave, she decided these will have a seaside theme. Digging through decades of curated ornaments, she pulled out the shells, starfish, beach chairs and more. Each little bauble danced on the branches, showing off for a Florida Christmas.

Staring into the popcorn ceiling above, glints of gold glitter caught my eye. That was a thing back then, covering popcorn ceilings with glitter, I guess.

It was like staring at the clouds. Relaxing and mesmerizing, my active imagination would find figures and scenes, building little vignettes in my mind.

Sometimes, in my younger years, it would be horses, birds, flowers and such. I would drift off to dream, laying on my grandparent’s sofa, while visiting. These fancies would follow me into my dreams.

As I aged, I still would stare into that ceiling on our visits. Sometimes it would be of a witch flying through the starry night skies. Other times it would be a romantic romp in the middle of the night that would fill my adolescent brain.

I still find myself looking up into the knocked down texture of my own ceilings though, seeking creative thoughts, but there are no more golden stars to light my way.

I wonder if the new owners kept that ceiling after all these years.

Unbridled decadence covered the buffet.

Aromas of orange, onions, butter and sage

waft from the freshly roasted turkey.

Cranberry pear relish filled with flavors galore

Clove, cinnamon, ginger and more.

Don’t forget the stuffing, broccoli salad,

Roasted vegetables and sweet potato casserole.

But it isn’t the food that really matters,

It’s the family and friends, near and far,

We’re thankful to have in our lives.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

Criticism is hard to take;

I knew it was just a matter of time.

But this time, tears did not flow,

Just acceptance because I understood;

Trying to be my best, and pressured too.

Maybe one day, all this will make me shine.

I scoff when I hear ‘clean coal’ used,

As if it has never costs a single soul.

Maybe the industry is cleaner now,

But I do not understand how.

To find the lodes we have to dig,

Scrape out mountainsides

Or burrow deep down into earth.

The skies or the tunnels filled with haze.

Scars on the lungs leave their marks,

But as they hedge, the workers who stay,

Some find they can’t breathe day to day.

If black lung visits their door,

The harder it is to inhale evermore.

Until one day the scars or another disease wins,

So tell me how coal is clean again?

She swung her fists in the air,

Pretending to be a badass in fingerless gloves.

A moment of spunkiness and a smile,

Shhh…don’t tell anyone they’re therapeutic!

Back to the cavern from which she came,

The keyboard began to clack away,

And the mouse flew around the screen.

Just a little longer is what she needed,

The compression helped her get it done,

Then a little heat therapy to reduce the ache.

Wriggling her finger and massaging her limbs,

Finally relaxing and getting some relief!