For the love

We took our time

slow and steady over the low warmth of life

stirring again and again

watching as we thickened into something

soft and smooth and beautiful.

We grew above us a barrier

thick yet velvet to the touch

knowing below there was so much more,

carefully peeling back the layer

to allow the scent and texture

of love to move slow and steady

diving into the ecstasy of life

we found ourselves in the thick of love,

blissfully aware of each bite,

sighing as we knew the end would follow at some point,

so we took time

moving slower and slower

savoring each little bit

scraping the edges for remnants

never wanting it to end.

Thoughts of life and the pudding I loved as a child. Cooked slowly and once done, would develop this thick beautifully smooth to the touch skin. Sometimes we would take off the skins as it cooled so that it would recreate new to replace what was gone and then we would dive into the delightful concoction. I kept seeing life like that pudding, and love. I suppose anything can be metaphorically linked to good things we remember….for me today, chocolate pudding. Don’t ask me why, it just wouldn’t leave my thoughts so I guess I had to share some with you. Enjoy each bit my friends…I think I need to go make some pudding later….mmmmmm ❤ Perhaps with some whipped cream too, just because.

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A drop of sweetness

I dreamt of beauty,

beauty inspired by the touch of your lips ,

lips so soft upon mine as I lay waiting,

waiting and watching the dream unfold,

unfolding like a new bloom on the rose.

I flew through skies the color of purple

purple setting sun echoes rippling on meadows.

The rain fell upon us as the sun switched course,

coursing through my veins the blood so hot-

hot enough to cast moisture on my sleeping form,

formless we became one.

One moment of a thousand dreams,

dreams that leave me wondering where is the memory

memory that slips away like a drifting fog

fog of emptiness dissipates when gone away,

away from the edge of my thought-

thoughts that lent beauty and magic to the night,

night that slips beyond back into day-

daydreams that read like a sonnet or poem-

poems of splendor and passion-

passion like the purple of a rose unfolding,

unfolding like your arms as they pull me close.

Goodness of a special day

Moments in life go rushing past, beauty around us through loving life. We see the gentleness of a Spring day in each flower that greets us in our passing, we live in the chorus of a song of a hundred birds. Waking up to greet the new day, blessed in our health, our lives, and our being, we acknowledge each gift that has been given.

Words from a kind soul, voices across a thousand miles filled with love, the sound of the windchimes as the day passes into dusk-so soothing on the wind, a song of beauty, a hymn of love. These moments speak to us in waves, high and low tides moving each second, the rhythm of our breathing as we meander along deserted roads, seeing the sun as she rises as if to greet us. Everyday has been a gift, but none more so than today. The gift of your life as you came to be here, and although grown now into a beautiful man, I am indeed thankful for each moment we have together, every bit of laughter, every sweet word spoken in love.

You are the greatest gift to my heart and I am so very blessed to have you in my life. Today and forever, I love you. Happy Birthday to my amazing husband Jeff. 

Here’s to a ten thousand or more days of joy and love, as I paddle you forwards and backwards in this marriage canoe, beneath a beautiful sun that marks each day that I fall more in love with you. 

Happy Birthday to YOUUUUUUU🎂🌴☀️

Image taken at the Erie County Fair last year in the Indian village…..fun times indeed.

Finding love

In the corner of the yard he walks quietly as the sun sets slowly down beyond the horizon. He looks at each tree, every plant that grows in this new place, familiarizing himself with the nuances of the specimens and finally stopping to smell the jasmine that is finally nearing it’s end.

He calls to me then, a hint of excitement tinges his voice, “come and see this, and bring the camera” he says to me and I hurry out to see the sight that is animating him so. Hoping of course that it isn’t a big snake or baby gator back there, I arrive with the camera in hand. There it is before me, a heart shape of the palest green moss growing on a tree that we’ve been looking at each day and night for the last two months now, neither one of us had seen it before and now sitting there plain as day, a heart. “I hope it’s not broken” he says with a laugh, as the trunk bark separates and runs through the lovely green shape. “I’m sure it will be just fine, they make look broken but they always heal” I reply with a smile. We sit each night here in the lanai of our new home, watching the clouds and the sky change, hearing the silent tinkling of the wind chimes as the gentle breeze blows, and listening to the many birds that frequent us with song and merry antics, and we talk of our future, what we want, what we hope for and we feel the peace here that calms us on this new journey.

Now, unexpectedly finding love when least expected. Right in our own back yard.

He has a knack for knowing what makes me smile, what it is that I adore and once again, prince charming comes through….with love of course.

Becoming

Beauty formed with skilled hands of a master, set upon pedestals in secret gardens, lush and serene in its silence. Light filters in from a sun that peers beyond clouds that are slow to move out of the way of the brilliance, and as she rises into herself each imperfection can be seen on the surface. All imperfection cannot be seen though, deep within the stone that was built over centuries lay minute cracks and fissures in the makeup of the whole.

The outer shell is worn with time, pocked with blemishes from outside forces, like wrinkles on a weathered face proud to carry each crease from days gone by and a smile that seems permanent on each corner that has stood the test of days long passed. 

Each year that passes, as we move into each second, each story that moves us, and each word we place in long strung lines becomes more sacred, for it is who we are. Faded pages forgotten come whispering back like a paper book left on a beach blowing aimlessly in the wind, back and forth yet still forgotten. A hand reaches down and examines the tattered remnants and we become intrigued and carry it away for a later read, or to hand it off to a friend who would enjoy this new gift. We pass these stories on sometimes, yet others remain hidden within, like the cracks and fissures in marble, too hard to find and release, sometimes better left there unseen.

We cannot remain hidden on the pedestal for long, as beauty always finds a way to be found, and upon discovery, the familiarity that we are all on the verge of becoming love begins to show. We open ourselves a little more, fear of rejection slowly dissipates as we realize it’s okay to be found, okay to be heard and seen. Each scar, each story takes on a new meaning when found that it is often universal, we have become to accept and love that which we see on the surface, that which we are and all we are still destined to become.

We are becoming love with each step taken and each piece of ourselves we leave behind, setting the weight aside we find suddenly we can soar, we can fly and as we stare at chronicles of our lives, each bit of joy, each bit of heartbreak becomes a slice of wind that carries us yet higher and it is there we are free, it is there we finally become whole.

I was thinking of statues that are beautiful in their sometimes heartbreakingly sad way, as acid rain deteriorates the forms, they are almost like humans that change over time, with wrinkles and scars and imperfections, it is when we tell our stories and accept ourselves that we become the love we seek, we become that which we truly are.

There will be storms

Skies twist and turn these days, moving through in the blink of an eye, unsettling the mind that waits for rain yet receives only sunlight. They say there will be storms. Storms so fierce that it will test the mettle, the strong shall be wise and stand tall with an ounce of fear, as that is all life requires. A healthy dose of fear to put things in perspective.

The fear, the little nudge to the mind that reminds us of our smallness, our frailty. Life moves like that, we move through blind, Groundhog Day relived over and over yet soon we find, It was always the little things, the looks, the words, the feelings that mattered most.

A storm can rip apart the very things you’ve built, the things you’ve worked for, the things you desired….but in the end they are only that, things. The storm can’t replace a moment spent with a loved one, a kiss shared in passion, a smile given to a stranger just because they looked as if they had nothing….the free things in life, that’s what’s important.

There will be storms, internal, external, it’s all in the way you look at it. Yet if we set aside our preconceived thoughts and let understanding take the place, to leave a judgement behind of how things should be, to strip away the fear to find the light that shines below like the hottest sun, ah, then the storm will pass by, leaving little touched, perhaps just a hair out of place and a memory of how things used to be, and then we set fear aside of losing it all and begin to truly live.

Image taken on the gulf coast of Florida by Janet O. Realtor extraordinaire.

Of forgotten words

I slip into the fading twilight,

words fall through my mind in perfect time

to the breath that grows deeper

and I long to be able to remember

all of these beautiful words that fell into place

like ants walking in a perfect line

one after another

moving forward with their goal

as mine was to save each of these images

and words that I felt were so fitting

knowing that with the coming of the dawn,

they would be scattered about

forgotten

and it left me sad in a way

but I knew that at some point,

walking that path they would come back again,

to find me waiting

for a midnight masterpiece

that was born

then slipped into the darkness,

a mere memory

now.

Perhaps it is the whisper of the pink moon

searching over water into my thoughts,

stirring up a calm and peaceful way

that waits for just the right and perfect moment,

sneaking in to rouse me

to come out to play

in coming days.

Maybe the words will be there

as I stand alone under her distant gaze

perhaps she will share with me the memory forgotten

and with the rise of the sun

it will all fall into place

as fingers move

with forgotten grace.

Art of life

Life moving thoughts

Swirled in memories dripping

Like oil on canvas waiting

To be seen.

Yesterday souls bleed ink

Tattooed image in the mind

Below the skin in permanence

Etched for life smooth indigo scar.

Hazy visions on empty walls

Creations of the unknown

We watch the movement in stillness

Searching for meaning in each stroke.

Admission to a life of wonder

Walking the corridors of our days

Seeing the beauty together

Memory painted lovingly

Hung in a world on wires

Beneath an endless ceiling

Lit from within by a masters hand.

Image found at : http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/moma-monet-couple/

Mermaid winter

She waits on frozen shores

Winter cuts her to the bone

Time to escape to find warm sunny rays,

Mermaid muses on cloudy days.

Swimming into the frigid depths

Finding the surface where the sun waits smiling

She feels the ice melt from her veins

Home again on white sand shores.

Songs of summer remembered

The sights and sounds of days of heat

Rippled air of oasis awaits

She sets her hair free to fade

On a piece of salty land

Her hands dip into the deep warm sand

And she scatters shells like diamond dust

At ease in her place

By the distant sea.

She sings a song of peace and joy

Of cold hard places she lets those fall away,

And beckons those to join her here

Embracing the beauty of her place of blue

Sparkling waves under a winter orb,

Of sand and sun

And the white glistening moon,

To sit a spell and watch the tide

Moving her from side to side,

Drifting into the ocean of bliss.

The simple art of life

We start out so simply it seems,

One grain, then another added

Almost like ingredients to create

Our dream life.

A cup packed tight with well wishes

With a host of thoughts blended in,

Memories in cups and spoons measure perhaps,

Or joyfully tossed into the mix,

Building up each day

Each year that at times can feel so very long

And we look back through the rearview mirror

And wonder where it all went.

But we keep building higher,

Smoothing the edges

Peering through windows at beautiful sights,

Embracing the light at the end of day

That flickers and finds us contemplating peace

Near water’s edge where the moon glistens

And the skies bend near to hear our prayers.

Each step leading us higher

To the soul we become

To the richness of life that finds us

At life’s end,

A magnificent masterpiece,

Slipping into a far off place,

Taken and swept out by the tides

Into the everything and nothing

That we are.