When we were small

Through jungles of thick dense mirages

we quietly slip through the darkness seeking

the light of a thousand daydreams

we know lay beyond the realm of youth.

When we were small we longed for age,

to be like those we saw around us like tall trees

and beautiful willowy women who entered rooms

and silence greeted their demure smiles,

jewels dripping from arms and necks

as the music played and the dances began

we watched from behind potted plants

meager in our pajama clad selves,

uninvited to the ball.

We pretended in front of mirrors,

decorating faces with left-over hand me downs

crumbling blue shadows and dried tubes and pots-

and broken glittering necklaces with missing pearls,

we bowed and curtsied and spun with joy

yet somewhere inside we knew it was just play

the tattered gowns and the laughter we endured

on playground fields from the older girls,

we stood with our faces outstretched to the sun,

yearning to be seen

in the overgrown garden of this make believe.

When we were young we longed for more

and as we became the trees so tall

we looked with love at those still small,

remembering the good

and casting out the sad,

now we long for those softer times of quiet,

the moments of innocence before the dark clouds

of want and need and anger became

a fabric of our lives we had not asked for,

we long for that peace

of yesterday once more.

I saw this image and this is what came to mind, no fears my friends, I’m in a good place, sitting in the shade of a beautiful Florida winter? day, listening to the world move in its own special way and just being.

Joy in being

There is in that tiny fragment of a moment

as we become conscious of our thought,

the name for that little emotion that slips through

becoming known as we are aware,

and the feeling as it floods the soul with the river of it all

when joy is the only thing standing at the tip of the tongue,

and laughter is its sound.

We hold onto those moments,

carefully guarding them like a petty child,

yet knowing we need to share and release

but oh how it hurts holding on so very tightly

for fear replaces the joy with thoughts of it being lost,

as if it would slip away from our tiny grasp-

and in holding on we starve the emotion,

the joy starts to become small

so we let go just a bit

and feel it begin to grow once more

learning that this is how it truly must be,

to hand it off to a friend,

to send that smile and the sound of a laugh

like the tinkling of wind chimes as it drifts through the air,

landing softly in the waiting lap of all.

Yes, this is how it must be,

to live that moment in a simple joy of being,

to grow the light

and to carry it forward into the day and night.