I Love Writing

  At first glance It looks like we are Sailing into the storm But a closer look Reveals that we are Leaving the storm And heading for Fairer skies

A Kiss You kissed me after dinner  I could taste the raspberry cheesecake We shared on your soft lips. That kiss reminded me Of the tender young love We first shared all those years ago. I don’t need roses or diamonds Just the sweet romance of sharing that Cheesecake donned with Shaved chocolate and raspberry sauce.  It All Makes Sense It doesn’t make too much sense I said a bit incensed. We didn’t have that dance. We didn’t take that chance. But we took other chances, said you, And that dance wasn’t all that we knew. The music took us through The good times and bad times, too. One song doesn’t define you and me Our life has been a symphony Other times a cacophony, But together perpetually. And then it all made sense The vows we took, their relevance, In good times and in malevolence, We remain lovers and best friends.  A Gift To be with you A minute, an hour, a day Perpetual bliss A touch, an embrace, a gentle kiss To be with you Morning’s aglow Awake with happiness Sunshine, warmth,

The Wildflowers “There is magic all around us,” her mother would say when they went on their walks together. She didn’t really believe, though. She said she could see it. She said she could feel it. But she couldn’t. No harm in make believe, she would think, but she was talking about her mother’s make believe not hers. She was a more practical sort, a more show-me kind of girl.  “There, Sandra, can you see it? Can you see it in those flowers,” her mother would say as she pointed to a stand of purple wildflowers. “Yes, mommy. Yes, I see it,” she said as excited as her make believe would allow. But all she saw was a bunch of green with purple tops. Not big blooms with wide petals like the tulips, but tiny little bursts of purple. Not the deep purple you see on pansies but a redder purple like an orchid. “There, Sandra, that bird, can you see it? Can you see the magic?” “I see it, mommy. I see the magic.” But she never saw the magic. She just saw some broken light blue eggshells and a rob

A merry-go-round, that’s what it was.  He focused on the merry-go-round and then realized he was on fair grounds. They hadn’t been used in a long time, the field overgrown, the rides a mossy mess. He remembered a story in which the merry-go-round saved the protagonists but he didn’t think this one would save him from whatever was chasing him. He wasn’t sure how he got turned around, he’d hiked those trails for years. But here he was unsure of his position, injured where the beast – bear, wolf, who knows – scratched him. Luckily, it was on his arm so he could still run. From what he could see and feel, there were four deep gashes. He only caught glimpses of the wound when the moon shone through the canopy. Now that he was in the open field he could see the mess of blood and torn meat that used to be his left forearm. He wrapped his shirt around the arm again, although it was soaked with blood, and scanned the area for a hiding place. It looked like the merry-go-round itself was the best

Gazing at the nighttime sky, Sparkling bright stars  Wink at me As though they are would-be lovers. Reminiscent of myths about creation, The ancients put the greatest lovers In the night sky. The fingernail moon; The moons in my fingernails. The stars in the sky; The stars in your eyes When you look at me. Do you see that twinkle  When I gaze at you?

      The cat sat on the counter, looking like an Egyptian statue, staring at him as he made a pot of coffee. He turned to get the cream out of the refrigerator and almost tripped over the stupid cat.      “What the hell, cat,” he said and gave the thing a little nudge with his foot. “Always under foot, I swear this cat is trying to kill me.”     “You’re imagining things,” Anne said. “That cat is a sweetie.”     As she said this, the cat rubbed against her leg. She bent down to pet the sleek gray coat. The cat was a stray that she rescued from the field next to her office. She noticed the cat one day when she was leaving the office and the thing was playing with a field mouse. It was still alive and she watched the cat toy with the mouse. The cat would let it escape and then pounce on the tiny, frightened thing. Then, as though they were done with their game, the cat just let the mouse go and then looked at Anne with its green-gold eyes and meowed.     “Oh, yeah, real sweet,” George l

I remember mornings with My grandmother. The smell of freshly brewed coffee In a tin coffee pot Percolating on the stove. Not a mug But a cup and saucer Milk and sugar on the table A piece of toast or a cookie To dunk in the dainty cup Talking about nothing And everything As the day started At our kitchen table.

SEWING     My earliest memory is my grandmother’s sewing machine. It wasn’t like the one I have in the closet, white and light-weight plastic, its sleek design and gizmos and gadgets that I'll never use. It was black and round and metal. It had Singer embossed on the front in gold letters. It was attached to a heavy wooden table, unlike my new sewing machine that is portable and usually sits on my dining room table the two or three times a year I pull it out (usually to make a Halloween costume or run off a seam). She was always working at the machine, my grandmother, although she had retired the year I was born.     I remember going to her home and watching her at the machine. She had a small toy sewing machine on the window sill for me to use while she sewed on the Singer. Her machine was in a corner of the living room near the window. She liked the natural light while she was working. There the two of us would sit, she at her machine and me at mine. It was fun for me, but for my

April Snow April snow is like fairy dust Sprinkling the earth in crystal wonder. Sparkling, just for a moment,  In the bright sunshine. Then, as quickly as fairy dust loses it’s glow, It disappears.