My mother and your mother were hanging up clothes,
but no punch in the nose
over said clothes
that flapped in the breeze,
and did they make cheese
in a churn in the basement
where the canning jars lay,
filled with dead spiders and webs
till the flood swept them away
with library books that were never returned,
soppy sponges of required reading
when To Kill a Mockingbird was acceptable,
and now Harper Lee lay tired
in a five dollar bin,
the Wal-Mart specials stacked and falling over
by hands that dig searching
for something perhaps found
or not.
My mother and your mother were never together
hanging up clothes
as the houses were set too far apart
and the times were simple
riding our bikes on country roads
as we drank our Dr Peppers by the creek
and growing bored returned home
to hear the arguing
the words that never seemed to end
but we carried our paper origami games
because we wanted to pick rightly,
the name of the boy we would wed,
but roses are red and violets are blue
I still remember
and hope you do too,
somewhere in this world I like to think
you remember me fondly,
the childhood friend who moved away,
who could never settle
with my soda in my bag
and the wind in my hair,
my mother and your mother….
what color was the blood?
I always chose blue
seemingly less real.

A steady stream of consciousness poem for you folks today. Was reminded of those little paper games that we played as children, you’d flip the tab of your choice and ultimately would find out the name of the boy you’d marry. I don’t know why that memory surfaced but gave it a go. The image was the closest I could find to the paper thingy we played with….stirring up the ghosts for sure 🙂

Time to go

Waves crash like errant thoughts
slamming into the thickest forms
meant to last forever
piece by piece carried away
as brown muddy water swirls carelessly
tides moving in and out
sucking away the loved treasures,
time to go
to be born again.
Beginnings and endings
life has her moments that teach
the art of memories and photographs
replacing that which can no longer be touched,
swept away in rough storms
sometimes its just good to let it be,
drift on the good times
and let go the rest.
I saw a mermaid below
swimming slowly waiting to be seen,
endless depth in natures eyes
dark form lurking beneath the blue-green
as the heart beat in excitement
she slipped farther away
as I stood above content
for having been gifted with presence,
more memories stored
as the posts now come down,
the crew will carry away the pieces
of a history destroyed
by a fickle wind that blew over
yet saved me from her worst,
I will carry on remembering
the scent of salt
and the view of yesterday.

The historic Anna Maria City Pier was too badly damaged during Hurricane Irma that it will be torn down and rebuilt at some point in the future. A beautiful place where I saw my first manatee that swam beneath my feet as I stood looking down, they say originally someone thought they were mermaids….I think a mermaid would be much more attractive…..but it was so special, and I have photographs and memories to keep it in my mind for always. ❤

The scented air

Atmosphere hangs blissful
like paper lanterns in the sky
filled with color and brightness
as breezes blow
emotions flow
keeping time to the rhythm
of the scents on the air.
Mystery fragrance caught
in between the threads billowing
line after line hanging
gathering it all in like a warm embrace.
One by one we feel the softness
as the autumn comes calling
with fits of winter chill,
in this place where everyday
is just everyday
and not much leads to change
but storm and darkness,
the brisk front sweeps in
like the broom moving across the floor,
reaching into corners to find
the bits and pieces left behind,
and the memory glides us back to the yesterdays
when rapid motion days flew too fast,
seasons that had momentum
and we longed for the return of summer
as the snow kept falling faster,
here we sit beyond the doors
breathing in and out the refreshment
of the scent of air welcomed
like a long lost loved soul