When I meet your stormy glare, I shudder.
Blue skies darkened by muddy cumulonimbus.
Was it something I said?
Regardless,
Who can be sunny forever?
That faint twitch in your lip,
Feet cemented to the floor.
Can’t you talk without your hands?
Clues.
Careless words better left unsaid.
A book takes flight,
A door slams tight.
Then, stony silence.
All right.
Good riddance.
One isn’t always the loneliest number, you know.
Dallas here.
I know you’ve missed me and all, so I figured you needed to know what I’ve been up to.
This:
“Genius is the ability to reduce the complicated to the simple.” — C.W. Ceram
Am I the only one who has trouble comprehending instructions for Do-it-Yourself projects?
Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart. ~Erma Bombeck
Nobody visits my blog for recipes.
That’s not a complaint — it’s just a statement. I’m a passable cook and have never poisoned anybody, but sharing recipes here just isn’t my thing.
Nevertheless….
You’re in pain,
And I’m sorry.
I didn’t cause it,
Can’t absolve it.
I hate seeing you hurting.
Hate watching, helpless,
as you close off from the world
and those who need you.
Hate seeing the spark he so loved
seep right out from your soul.
Just know that I’m here
When you’re ready to talk
Or need a shoulder to cry on.
To reminisce over happier times
And sunny days.
How his eyes crinkled
When he told a joke.
How safe you felt
Wrapped in his strong arms.
How right it seemed
Spooning together through the night.
I know your house cries empty tears now.
If it’s any comfort, I miss him, too.
Note: When I wrote this, I was thinking of an older lady/friend of mine, who lost her beloved husband to cancer last year. Sometimes even our best intentions fall short, and all we can do is be there, when of course we’d prefer making it all better!
I owe my success to having listened respectfully to the very best advice, and then going away and doing the exact opposite. — G. K. Chesterton, English author and mystery novelist
Wish I’d read that before asking my dear son to recommend a course of action on something we’d both been riding the Struggle Bus over.
It went down like this:
You didn’t mean it, I know,
But knowledge doesn’t salve the wound.
Nor understanding ease the hurt.
You made a promise —
Gave me your word.
Then reneged, without so much as a solitary regret.
Leaving me to hold down the fort.
Tie up loose ends.
Survive.
So don’t think you can come back on special occasions
Like the holidays
And everything will be as it was before.
Because I’ve moved on.
I’m stronger, braver,
And refuse to allow toxic people access to me.
No regrets, no looking back,
What’s done can’t be undone.
Mercifully, no one dies from betrayal.
Dallas here.
Mama’s busy working on her stupid laptop, so she asked me to pitch-hit again.
(Not really, but won’t she be surprised when she sees my new post and your lovely comments, tee hee!!)
Note: I don’t usually write poetry. This one came to me out of nowhere (after reading it, you’ll probably say I should’ve left it there!). But we’re all friends, right? So I’m open to criticism, suggestions, comments. Here goes:
He’d never believed in Love at First Sight.
Until now.
Right. This. Moment.
She cruised in, looking far more captivating
than anyone had a right to do on a Tuesday afternoon.
Wearing a black-as-midnight dress,
Silver shoes,
A come-hither look in her eyes.
And when the lights found her, she glowed.
Summoning courage, he made his way toward her.
Head uplifted, heart pounding, shoulders squared.
Would he be enough man for her?
“Sorry, pal. She’s taken.”
Stricken, he gaped at the killjoy dousing his flaming desire.
Then he saw the sign affixed to her rear window —
Sold.
And his heart fell.
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 