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.



You are not alone

Working on my book and thought I should share a few thoughts…If you are feeling lost, betrayed, abandoned or alone, I have been there and I can tell you, you are never alone. If you have lost family or friends, God will restore relationships and even bring you new family and friends, and as in my case, he will even bring you someone who loves you unconditionally. Someone who sacrifices their own needs to make you happy; someone who puts you first…someone who makes you laugh when you are in tears…someone who not only accepts you with all of your baggage, but puts it on their back and carries it with you. So, if you are looking around and see no one, it is an illusion because if you see only one set of footsteps, they aren’t yours…..I love you all …. and I am not the only one… ❤



Our colors spill, rainbow-like
from sleepy-eyed midnight stars;
gold-edged moon

peeks through the cracks.

We know that we are broken, blurred,
beaten between the lines of self-doubt.

This soil is tainted,
torn like mowed grass,
finely splintered

like the shards of shattered dreams.

Carry my worries on your shoulders,
piggyback, like that nice uncle I never had
until constellations fall back into view
and all the pieces fit together by morning.



The Vessel

Here you sit- a free spirit
no fear, no chains, no bars
a dream, so close, you can see it
just beyond those glimmering stars.

You wish to make him well pleased
with your talent, create beautiful art;
your voice, like poetry, spilling out joy
through the purity of a humble heart.

Everything changed, the day you met
you shout to the world, your love story
molded, reshaped, set on a shelf
and the potter gets all the glory!



Love Letter #31: promises

They popped out like posies
ripe for the picking;
these words, these words,
congregating with yours
fading into the wallpaper
like paislies dotting your I’s,
crossing t’s with a swirling swoop,
encircling tresses, following
down the length of a robe.
Let me hang on
to the sweet fragrance
of promises, entangled
in the drought of a season.



Love Letter #29: (Better Half)

You are the poem
dripping from my hands,

strong arms
waiting to catch me-
pick me up when I fall.

I always wondered
what the bough of a weeping willow
would be like,
all those days I spent
watching limbs sway and bend,
sway and bend,

but never break.

You are those limbs

holding me up,
but, never taking the bows.

I can stir the pot,
press out the wrinkles,
finish your sentences,
with dots,

like pretty flowers
all in a row,

but, I can never stand tall,
like you do;
you mighty oak
with the heart of a weeping willow.

Be still, my heart,
yes, you,
when I see you, humble,
hands, folded in prayer;
those brown eyes,
melting mine.

Yes, you are the poem,

but you always make me
the title.



The Psychology of Hello

We took a train
for a change of scenery
and three stops later,
we got just what we asked for-
the waft of corn nuts and ben gay
followed by suitcase wheels
over my two small toes
with a distant I’m sorry,
a clickety click of fingernails
on a laptop across the table
and an impromptu proposal
in the seat behind me .

Two stops later, words fell
from a gold edged book
accompanied by sighs in song
to psalms, sweaty palms
joined by tattered strings
of a Fender. She was a beauty;
traveled the world
and Lord,
could she tell stories.

I looked at him
and he looked at me,
smiled with our eyes,
both thinking
how nice it will be
to get home.