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Love Letter #42: Blue

Gentle soul,
my baby boy; quiet,
quirky, standoffish,
except when I sing.
When you smile,
the skies open
and I am flooded
with a Mother’s love
for her gentle lamb.

Those brown eyes,
they bring me to tears;
sweet freckled face,
sometimes serious,
always loving, caring;
innocence envelops you,
my angel, artist, thinker
in a baseball cap;
our special gift.

You hit the ground running,
bouncing, Bubba,
silly, bundle of joy.
The sound of your voice
leaves chests beating soft,
like your thoughts,
beaming with imagination,
sweet, like your heart.

~

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Love Letter #41:Pink

One sunny day in July,
my eyes counted twenty digits
beaming proud Mommy;
little more than a baby, myself,
but, oh, I did love her
from the very first glance;
timid round, little brown eyes,
those tiny fingers
wrapped around mine.

It was a lovely December morning,
Another raven haired blessing
with pink blushing cheeks;
a gift, a miracle,
wrapped in a pastel blanket
fluttered away with my heart.
A flurry of butterflies, swooned
like musical notes to my ears.

Decades later,
a pretty little blossom
slender, wrapped around me,
Oh, my heart,
– -skipping beats,- –
melting like chocolate
on her face.
Graceful, ballerina;
my sweet, sunshine girl.

and just a year ago,
a tiny new blessing
sashays into this world;
a little wildflower, unique,
beautifully perfect
darling little giggling
blue-eyed angel baby,
blowing kisses

and oh, how I love them.

~

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Faded Simile

I.

There are syllables swirling
blown through fingers
like kisses to the heavens;
love letters
running through my veins.

I tape poetry to my eyelids
and wake up in verse;

simile swirling in my coffee cup.

II.

There were pages penned
in a candlelit room;
notebooks hidden under the covers,

glass slipper rhymes
composed of dreams
in condensation
from weary eyes
and a faded simile.

III.

I saw your footprints
beneath disappearing ink;
snow covered paths you cleared
with loving sentences
fingertips brushing cheeks

lips upon quivering lips.

IV.

You never ended with question marks,
or frowned
upon ambiguous behavior,
you just stood
beside me, held me up

lay me down in wildflowers
like a gift
under the sun.

V.

I am broken, battered,
but devoted.
I am troubled, excitable, flawed,
but forgiven.

I stand,
even when I feel frail
smile,
mimic petals of a rose;

bloom, wilt,
and bloom again

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Love Letter #40: Cadence

I pour myself into your words,
taste them like an elixir
and run head-first
into a field of alliteration
blooming like daffodils
between the pages
of unconditional love

letters, still breathing
your last syllables.

At the sound of your voice,
there were rivers, running,
stars dancing ribbons
around the moon

and there was me,

a tiny spark
within this vastness,

just waiting to become a light.

~
~Day 30 and final day of NaPoMo! (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)

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Dahlias

All I wanted was to stop the noise;
the bleak conversations in my head.

My whole life has been words-
words and thousands of tears.
You brought me baubles and beads,
gold, shiny things, but, oh!,
what I would have given
for a few moments of your time.

I see you standing there
your hands holding long, red stems

after you stole my heart.

~
Day 29 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)

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The Saddest Season

Blooming can be the saddest season.
Grow, spread,
wither away

like petals
from a tombstone
covered in last Winter’s poinsettias.

I closed my window ,
drew the blinds,
wandering through the wildflowers
of my mind

to the last glimpse of sun;
feelings following the scent
of honeysuckles

all the way to the end of April.

 

 
~Day 28 of NaPoMo *a poem a day in April for National poetry month)

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Love Letter 39: Flawed

I am still spinning

clay, on a wheel,
shaped, molded,
melted

and thrown back in

while his eyes shine
like a Cullinan diamond;

like an artist
admiring his own
masterpiece

shining a spotlight
on the innate imperfections;

the painted peculiarities of me;

he counts the strands of hair
down my back,
numbered, woven silk

spun by his hand.

~
Day 26 ( of a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)