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It’s…

It’s that glow that cannot be hidden,

It’s a dead give away.

It’s a smile that cannot stop,

And the feeling of walking on air.

But it isn’t all lofty and dreamy,

It’s also honest and naked.

It’s accepting the bad and the ugly,

Seeing it, accepting it, loving it even.

It’s getting in each other’s faces

Then bursting into laughter together.

It’s understanding our pasts and

Learning how to care for each other;

Giving space when it’s needed,

But also pulling closer and not letting go.

But even with all this, it is still

That unexplainable draw to each other

Through time, through decisions,

Divergent paths which come back together.

It’s real.

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Boot Free

“Shit!”

The tiny cupie-haired child jumped in a circle.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Her father’s work boots pounded with each jump.

“Shiiiiiit!!!”

Her face turned red speckled with white spots.

Big brown eyes started to tear.

Her lower lip started to quiver.

Her little fists strained in frustration.

Her mother, astonished, looked at her cherub.

Should she punish her for saying that word?

No, she just smiled…

astonished she knew how to use it properly.

Just like her mom. That’s her girl.

She picked up her child, freeing her feet.

Wiped away the tears and kissed her head.

Then she set her back down, now boot free.

The little girl let out a giggling laugh

Then ran into the living room,

plopping down on her diapered butt.

Ready to play once more.

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Winter in FLA

A crisp day befalls our little corner of the world,

Out come the sweaters and scarves,

Some even don light winter coats.

We know we look silly to all those tourists,

The ones wearing shorts and flip flops

Amazed at such a beautiful winter’s day.

I enjoy these days, my northern blood agrees,

A light sweater however I still need ,

After years of being surrounded by palm trees.

Stay warm Florida!

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Raw

Yes, I get angry, and I hurt.

I scream, I sulk, I slam things.

I cry.

I pour on the super sweet,

I am trying to keep the peace.

I work hard to let things go.

I retreat into my own world.

The de facto stance of me.

I woke him up this morning,

Not even upset with him,

Just tired of the same ol’ shit.

Dishes piled, left for two days.

He knows to rinse out the damn cups.

But it really wasn’t toward him.

I don’t know why things bother me.

I smile through the moment,

And then, in my solitude, I vent.

Dropping the glass jars into the trash,

Because this hellhole doesn’t recycle,

Rescuing the wood cutting board

Left soaking in water, slamming it down.

I could never hurt a fly,

But there are times my tongue is razor sharp.

After all, no one is perfect.

I try to keep it to just me,

Only those closest see through,

The fake smile, the anxiety,

to the real me.

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Swans in the Mist – Part Three

Henry looked at Charlotte. “I’m not your father, Charlotte. Please have a seat and I’ll explain.”

Charlotte became nervous as she watched him walk around the living area and took a seat.

“Please, Charlotte, sit.” His voice was as forceful and forthright as her own father.

Slowly, without taking her eyes off of him, she lowered herself back to the sofa. She stared at him intently. How is this man not my father? He looks so much like him.

“Your mind is probably reeling. My family used to own all the land around Cygnet Lake several generations ago. As with everything, time changes all. We held on to this small plot as well as full access around Cygnet Lake.”

Henry continued to explain to Charlotte the details he could provide. He then moved into the topic of her appearance. “I’m not sure why, but you are not the first, nor do I suspect, the last of our family to move through time. It is why they insisted Cygnet Lake stay within the family as the surrounding properties were sold off.

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “I never heard of this time travel phenomenon. Do any of them ever return to their time?”

Henry folded his hands and looked down, then back at Charlotte. “I am not sure. See, we’re still putting the pieces together here. We have met two others before you, but have never found any record of them in the family records. It was almost as if they never existed. Both tried to go back, but we don’t know if they made it.

Charlotte stared off into the flickering light from the fake fireplace. “I miss home.”

Sarah took a seat next to Charlotte and gently took her hand. “You are the youngest who have visited us. Don’t give up hope. We will do everything we can to get you back home.”

Charlotte took a ragged breath. “Has anyone decided to stay in the time they travel to? Do you know?”

Sarah glanced over to Henry. Henry shook his head No swiftly. Charlotte noted that it was almost too quick of a response, but dismissed her concern as quickly as she thought it.

“So, is there any mention of me in the family history you’ve gathered?”

Henry looked at her a moment. “I’ll have to look. I tend to focus on the people we meet that travel here. Since we just found you, and now that we know your name, I’m hoping you can help us as much as I hope we will help you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Anything we can do to put the pieces together. I love puzzles!”

Sarah smiled, then looked up at the clock. “I need to go to town for some things. Charlotte, I will get you some clothes that are more appropriate for our time, and your age.” Sarah stood up, gathered her purse and keys, and headed for the door. “Henry, do you want anything?”

Henry stood up and walked over to the door, kissing Sarah on the cheek. “No, my love. We’ll be here when you get back.”

As Sarah drove away, Charlotte watched out of the window. Her eyes grew big as a white vehicle pulled away. “What is that?” She glanced over at Henry.

He just smiled. “Oh, that’s a truck. There are a lot of mechanized things now in this time. Like this fireplace, even the stove.”

Charlotte was lost in wonder. “I could see why someone might want to stay. These automatic things are great!” She sunk back in the sofa. “How is this cottage staying cool? Shouldn’t it be warmer.”

Henry opened the refrigerator and pour them both some cold tea to drink. “It’s called air conditioning. It keeps the air cool or hot, depending on how you need it to keep the place.” He handed her a glass and she took a sip.

“I like it. I could get used to all of this.” She smiled. She thought she was progressive for her time, maybe she just needed to find her time instead.


I’m going back and picking up a few neglected stories from the past few months. I hope you enjoy the continuation of the Swans in the Mist.

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Bloomin’!

The beautiful spring days in Florida can be fleeting, quickly switching to sweltering summer-like days. We’re enjoying the spring for as long as it will stay.


Flutters of the butterfly, gentle and soft,

Bouncing from flower to flower in our garden.

The buzz of bees visiting from the apiary

seeking out pollen to make sweet honey.

Spring is abound, blossoms in full bloom,

dew clings to the leaves, and newness fills the air.

Welcome!

April 29, 2021~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

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New Year’s Morning

Good bye 2020! This last year has been a real ride.

2021 is upon us. I awoke this morning to a new day and found my way to the soft sand of Melbourne Beach to watch the sunrise.

The waves churned against the shore as the dark faded away to the dawn. I was kissed by a rogue wave, up to my knees, as I walked along the surf. It was refreshing and cool, soaking through my sneakers.

I found a high spot in the sand and settled in to see the Sun’s glow against the distant clouds. Slowly it shone through the breaks and illuminated this new day.

Happy New Year!