Boxes,
wrapped in white and silver,
still sit in my closet,
Sixteen years later,
unopened.
You left us this day,
unannounced.
Unexpectedly.
I talk to you all the time.
I wonder if you hear
if there is a beyond.
Or perhaps your spirit lies
behind one of your own
great-grandchildren’s eyes?
You are still missed.
You always will be.
Miss you Dad.
Gifts for him, for her, gifts for one and all,
Have you seen boxes stacked six feet tall?
They litter the table, they clutter the hall,
Is online shopping better than the mall?
What happened to gifts homemade and small?
I’m not so sure about this craziness, y’all!
No matter what, I mustn’t stall,
It’s all for family…I hope they have a ball!
Snappy, feeling so snappy.
Turn to the left, boom!,
Finally the pieces arrive;
Turn to the right, blam!,
installer on his way.
It takes a team, but,
I feel so so snappy.
Things are falling
Into place. Finally.
Is the end in sight?
Is that what I see?
Please, oh please,
Let it be! Snappy!!!
The light sparkles
on snow flecked antlers,
as the quiet deer
sits among the pine
upon a blanket of white.
Moonlight streams
through the branches,
bringing sweet serenity
to the forest floor.
The wind falls still,
not a leaf or twig moves,
while distant clouds
float by in the sky.
Night has come,
oh such a silent night,
and peace befalls
man and beast alike.
Love, real love, never disappears.
Sometimes it may seem to have
gone away or faded,
but really, it is sitting quietly
in the corner, waiting until
it is needed once more.
Love, true love, watches,
checks in, and always cares.
Love is not always boastful
or loud, or causing great sound.
Love always wants what is best,
sometimes it steps back,
sets you free for great things.
But, know this,
when it is true and real,
it remains always,
It waits until it is time,
time to bloom once more.
Seasons will change,
circumstances too…
Don’t give up on love,
it won’t give up on you.
She paces endlessly in her head,
there is nothing more for her to do now,
the decision is in others’ hands.
This is where she gets nervous,
not being in control.
This is how she has been let down
so many times before.
She repeats to herself,
if it’s meant to be, it will be,
and reminds herself
she did all she could do.
The minutes on the clock pass.
The days on the calendar too.
The deadline approaches,
soon she should know.
But waiting, waiting,
waiting is the hardest part.
She crawled across the sofa as he relaxed in his seat. Her hair fell over to one side as she sighed and smiled. He lowered his book and looked her way. She looked 10 years younger; he was amazed. A little hair color does wonders. Her dark brown eyes fluttered as she closed in, one of her hands rested on his thigh. Her shirt hung away from her body, not hiding anything from view.
He smiled, then he saw her bewitching look. His eyes locked onto hers. Those dark brown eyes had so much depth; he could easily get lost in them. She blinked once, then he felt it. His soul came pouring out from his blue eyes. She continued to drain him, but he didn’t care. She had him mesmerized, so it continued until he finally spoke.
“Stop, you’re stealing my soul.” He blinked, breaking the trance.
She sat back on her own legs. Foiled again.
“Is your dragon red or green?”
He looks up
with an arched brow.
“You know,
those are evil dragons.”
She smiled, unaware.
He continued on.
“I’d rather my dragon
be silver or gold.”
She lowered her head
having learned once more.
But a red dragon
would be sublime,
and she’d love to see
a green dragon in the sky.
But silver it is this time.
It’s what he’d prefer,
falling on the good side.
And he teases me
for being lawful good!
Crisp air and blue skies
dotted with cotton clouds
Yellow and white flowers abound
Butterflies flutter among the buds
The birds sing their songs
High up in the swaying trees
A few moments in nature bring relief
Here I find a little peace.
Hallmark movies playing in the background.
Pecan bars and warm tea on the table.
A new tree adorns our living room,
Full of warm white lights and berries.
A woodland theme I chose this year.
New ornaments first, gently unwrapped,
Collected throughout the year.
Some homemade ones added in.
It looks full, but I want more,
Feeling somewhat sentimental still.
The boxes wait in the garage to go through.
Soon the boughs will bow full of the old and the new.
Transforming the house will follow too,
pretty little baubles catching the light,
Bringing us peace, hope, and happiness.
I wish I could make this time of the year last.
Dawn Renee Writes 