poetry, writing

Heart in Hand

Sweet little hearts flutter about like butterflies,

in beautiful shades of blush, pink, and red.

They float across the sky, taking on different shapes,

A flower, a heart, a tree gracefully bowing in the wind.

One heart stands out among the rest,

beating wildly when he enters view.

It breaks free from the troop flying in the sky,

and swiftly makes its way to him

as he stands mesmerized.

It floats around, tickling his ear,

grazing his shoulder and neck,

and drifting in front of his chest,

before it finally lands on the tip of his nose.

He chuckles to himself as he lifts his hand to it,

the heart dances onto his finger and around his hand,

until it settles into his palm finally finding rest.

He smiles because he knows it is hers.

writing

Crossing

Two souls, separated to live different lives.

Entwined and crossing through each other,

But they keep wandering in odd directions.

Twisting and turning, trying to make sense,

Make sense of it all, why don’t the pieces fit?

Crossing paths again, sometimes walking

Side by side or on parallel planes.

Life continues on, moving them through

The ups and downs and chaos of it all.

Looking for the missing piece, not knowing,

One day will they find it in each other?

writing

Missing Art

My heart misses a little oil painting,

More likely a print, I know.

It hung outside our cabin suite

as we sailed the North Sea:

A Chinese girl, shaded by an awning,

Surrounded by her two cats,

Peaceful as the rain trickled down

In a courtyard in a far away land.

I have found similar compositions,

But they’re not quite right. See,

This depiction reminded me of me

Well, not exactly me,

but you know what I mean,

and my little fur beasts sitting at home.

Similar markings and all.

It would complement some decor I have,

Collected from Epcot, and from family

And friends who visited the East.

Hopefully one day I will find it again;

And this time, insist it be mine.

writing

Hands of Winter

The cold settles in, chilling to the bone.

Finger tips blue and trembling,

Wanting nothing more than to feel

Red hot blood rushing through them

Once more. But the blood holds back.

Nails grow brittle, layers peel away.

Youthfulness fades away. Wrinkled skin

And pronounced joints appear.

Will the warmth of Spring return one day?

poetry, writing

The Pattern

Pattern after pattern, ever changing, but also repeating

It’s amazing to watch the patterns unfold.

The standard routines, almost the same from day to day,

but slowly shifting into something untold.

Even the major upsets, the chaos, the disarray,

these start to become more routine.

The changes continue to play out,

but no longer do they feel unforeseen.

Is it we can’t help creating the patterns?

Or is it all preplanned and now our turns?

writing

Finding It

Motivation, come find me,

Lead me forward on a path,

Help me walk away from stress,

From overwork, and overthinking.

He inspired me to be a better me,

All those decades ago.

But then I did it for him.

Now guide me to do it for me.

Because that’s what I know I need.

Help me find my way back to me.

Not to look better, but to feel it.

Not to appear happier, but to be it.

Now I just need to do it!

Motivation, find me. One step at a time.

poetry, writing

Sakura’s Grace

Gracefully floating in the wind,

But strongly grounded by its roots.

Delicate ivory and pink blooms

Brightly dot the clear blue sky.

I hope to see you one day,

Underneath the beautiful canopy,

Your hand in mine once more.

Blossoms drifting by as our lips meet.

writing

Impatient

Everything is urgent. Need to do this now.

Drop everything, pay attention to this.

Oh, in the mood? Dive right in.

Skip all the good stuff, I can’t wait.

Food, now. What, you want to wait?

Humph, fine, we’ll have a snack.

Leisurely stroll; let’s get’er done.

Why is life just one big race?

poetry, writing

Weekend!

Dings, rings, and dancing machines.

The early morning is already abuzz.

My weary eyes looking at the screens,

Everything displayed is afuzz.

At least the weekend is nearing,

A little break from the daily grind,

Not devoid of all work I’m fearing,

But really, I do not mind.

Welcome, Friday! Welcome, weekend!

Gimme a break from this work-work-work trend!

writing

Snowy Owl Lane – The Day

“It’s a surprise. Trust me.”

He slipped a silken strip of fabric over her eyes, and snugly tied it. Then he gently took her hand.

“Follow me.”

He tugged on her arm and led her out the door. As they stepped out, the screen door squealed shut. The wood frame clapped against the opening. She smiled from the familiar sound.

He stopped and stepped in front of her, then took both of her hands. “Step down. Again. Once more.”

She followed his commands, already knowing they were stepping off the front porch.

He turned her around, trying to disorient her, then he let go of both hands and took a few steps. “Follow my voice. I won’t let you trip.”

She continued following him. She could hear running water in the distance and the rustling of the leaves. She knew where she was headed, off toward the edge of their property. But, she wondered why.

“Okay, stop.”

She tilted her head. She knew she wasn’t all the way to the creek, where the picnic table sat. Why would they stop here?

He walked back to her then stepped behind her. He loosened the knot and slipped off her blindfold. He whispered in her ear, “Look.”

She opened her eyes. The trees along the creek glowed from fairy lights and lanterns. It had to take hours to string up all the lights. The creek side had transformed into a dream from a fairytale.

Their picnic table underneath the trees had flowers and lanterns, along with a jug of sangria and a steak dinner.

Her eyes lit up and a large smile came across her lips as she turned into his arms. “It’s amazing. Thank you,” then she paused. She searched her mind for some special occasion. She came up empty though. “But, but, why?”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Today is the day, the day I knew.”

“Knew? Knew what?” She searched his face for an answer.

He grinned wider than she had seen in years. “I knew it would be you!”

She melted into his arms as they embraced in the glow. He slipped out of her arms and led her off to the table. Then, after taking their seats, he took her hand. “Thank you for making my dream come true.”