A Day in a Life

With sleepy morning eyes I descend the pint-sized bed, plod through a fragrant kitchen to the old back porch, opting for play over breakfast. Staring down long wooden stairs, thoughts of running for front pass quickly through and out for lack of immediate interest, overlooking barren yard, I decide on a more opportune time for escape. Inside aromas of cherry pie delightfully penetrate the walls and door, possibly intensifying my desire to stay. I make-believe play, merrily chanting, impatiently anticipating the arrival of my mooing mechanical cow or perhaps it was a barking dog, so much for the favorite. Either way, he moves too slowly for my busy self to tolerate.

Passing through the door to the fragrant kitchen, I poke a pudgy finger into fruity batter on the way to batman and robin, super heros of childhood, favorite toy in tow.

Tiptoeing by the crib, making note of the dozing baby, I'm careful not to wake him for fear of missing sacred dynamic duo dialogue.

Sensing my own impending nap time I now opt for the escape plan and scurry out and down creaking stairs all the way to front porch where I wait, singing silly songs, for the arrival of big yellow busses and laughing school kids and one teen girl relative whom I love to imitate; never quite experiencing the fullness of the wait, the teen awakens me from the oversized rocking chair. She escorts me up creaking stairs, and bids me goodbye.

With a belly full of pie evening happily arrives, with it the man of the house, such a lovely man.

Friday evenings the lovely bears gifts, fuzzy animal soaps that grow ever longer as I become squeaky clean. Finally, night-time ritual ensues, I lavish hugs and kisses all around, mommy, lovely, baby boy, before ascending back into pint sized bed. I reflect on the day and anticipate tomorrow; all in all, a good day.

Pepper Ann

Fuzzy brindle face, big pleading eyes

She had me at ruff

Although my mind was set on Wales

Scotland won my heart

Her time was short

As was her body

Compared to her head

Funny donkey dog

I loved you so

You surely knew that to be true

Or did you wonder that baneful

Frozen morning where I was

If time could be reclaimed

What a difference there would be

Nothing ignored, nothing unnoticed

No love unspoken

No icy grave

Girl in the Mirror

Today in my mirror,

 fine lines surround blissful brown

some are not so fine.

Where babies once roamed

grownups appear,

and the young guy I married

 is delightfully gray.

Cleverly disguised as chocolate brown

are a few gray of my own.

Somewhere in time

wisdom displaced foolishness,

 caution, abandon and

beauty, ashes.

Yet every now and then

 in my reflection, she emerges

young, scared,

oh so broken girl

I once was,

never to be again.

 Nor would I wish it,

neither lines nor blissfulness

 surround her eyes

but an all encompassing

vacancy

oh that I could hold her

and whisper future dreams

lovingly convince her of a

beautiful life to come

with husband and babies

wisdom and fine lines

chocolate gray hair and

brokenness no more.

June Bug Tree

Solitarily, my faithful tree

rises small but sound,

devoid of leaves,

yet not of color

From my grungy window

I spy sunny blue

glistening my lonely tree

Outside I run, beautiful abandon

of old and smoke

Summer day into night

thread in hand I wait

not so patiently for my

winged friends,

 at the tree of love where

green and purple hard shells rest

Quietly approaching so

as not to frighten,

carefully I tie to the

jagged mini-blade leg

Around we spin

my friend and I

buzzing and telling of secrets

and fears

Baleful abandoned,

beauty embraced,

twirling and telling,

I am my June bug

My June bug is me

Night Visions

I had quite the imagination as a child. I would stare at the window in my bedroom until I conjured these horrible images that would stare at me from outside, then I'd run into my mom's room and hide my head under the cover. Once I decided to see if they would appear in my mom's window. This poem is about that time. Happy Halloween!

From my Bed I summon them as
Frameless panes compel my taunts.
Haunting glassy fantasies.
Lions, witches, beheaded wolf,
Effecting frightful trepidation.

Into Mama’s bed I run,
Presumptive sanctuary. 

Audaciously my tiny face 

bids my eyes to frameless panes
where my hateful witch awaits.
Boldly, she breaches the expected mores.
What a wretched witch!

My Brother

I wrote this for my "little" brother last year. Long story short, our mom let a couple adopt him who were his "baby-sitters" while she worked, and they moved away with him. Unfortunately I was 5 when he was born and he was everything to me. Of all the crappy things I can remember growing up this by far was the most devastating. We only recently reconnected (2 years) and are now slowly building a relationship. Today is his birthday, hence the post.

Gray October, baby boy

eventuating sister bond.
Fierce, fleeting, love,
callously removed.
Clarity, comprehension, 

left wanting.
A heart rent,
Benumbed existence,
sufficiently incomplete
Forty Septembers ensue,
fearfully, vulnerably, determined
a sister’s love compels.
Baby boy, grown, beautiful,
comparably, sweetly broken.
Tenderly, gingerly, a bond renews
as hearts slowly mend
A sister’s fierce love endures, forever.

Little Girl Lost

Ok, so this one's a little on the downbeat side, but it's therapeutically necessary

The chair rests in the

darkest corner of the

spacious room, either

believed to be her last

leisurely spot or simply

the most useful place to

conceal my soft sobs into

the worn out cushions

The game is one

I’ve grown weary of

at such a tender age

Recalling the usual numbers

I dial, anticipating the usual

responses from those

who know but for the

sake of one so young

would rather not say

Common betrayers

in my mind so betrayed

In a home full of others

who belong to me not

dejectedly, I summon together

All courage I possess

so as not to burden

The custodial ones

Continuing my tiresome

routine I ponder the questions

How she could leave;

I’m only a little girl

Why she would leave;

perhaps I’m too clingy

How long she’ll be gone;

Doesn’t she love me

“Are you ok” asks the

beautiful mom

sweetly smiling I nod my head

such a lovely family

yet one not my own

A tiresome game indeed