Measure twice, cut once

She was my biggest fan
when I was not even sure
of my words, always failing me
to get what was inside
on the outside

I was her biggest critic
(there was a time)
when I saw only anger
my way of grieving over a life
that could not be reversed

Here I am
twenty years past
thumbing through volumes
rifling over fabric scraps
to find a pattern
to answer questions

and all I see is love
through the eyes
of the mercy of time past
how she took reams of my words
sharing them
sowing them like seeds

then dead at 56
we were out of time
and any chance to bridge gulfs
and sew seams, but I remember
how we had pie and coffee
and laughed

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Little bro

stevie
My little brother, not so little anymore, but still the sweetest boy ever

 

How come we say
that time passes too slowly?
when we all know
it slips out of our grip
way too fast–

I didn’t pay attention
while time has rambled on–
and I remember (don’t forget)
the old times (don’t forget)
I remember some good times
( they weren’t all bad)
and I remember some very bad times
(but they weren’t all bad)

Birthday’s just a day
and today it is your turn
to be man of the day
little boy with a deck of cards
and a magic wand, grown up
come on little brother
show me some magic
’cause I’m feeling tired–

Then let’s toast to the days coming
the ones we look forward to
and the ones that will lead to eternity–
there are many smiles left
daydreams of your reflections–
the golden faces looking up to you
for some good old days.

*

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Luke 12:6-7 NIV

fireworks

last night’s dog day
in sweaty angry silence
melted into sweet morning
lime tea words
over cups, with a
steamy cover of regrets
and guitar strums balm

we cannot have it back
can we, that sweet
close smell of together
amidst shooting stars–
stepping out of our place
to face the world
again, with secrets

is it me on your mind
when this song plays–
1989 is a meteor
and all our hopes
have got to be enough
to shield us, if
you do not turn to salt

Monday random

DSC00130

 

  • Could I edit my feature photo to be a little smaller?
  • Sure I could
  • But I woke up to brilliant sunshine and a temp here of -2°F
  • I am planting a little mental spring garden to give me the will to go out the door this morning
  • today, on March 4
  • mmhmm
  • positivity is key
  • So this was intended to be a handful of random thoughts
  • instead I am harping on winter
  • winter that wants to stay
  • here’s a thought, and a tip for the day
  • Bakers? Don’t forget that even a sweet treat needs a pinch of salt in it to bring out the sweetness. Not much, just a half teaspoon, perhaps a quarter, or only a pinch. It’s chemistry. It works. Please trust me on this!
  • In other news, I am continuing sewing memory pillows for a friend. The first two were fashioned from sweaters, as will the next after this project today
  • which is two pillows made from a first communion dress from the sixties
  • It has been very rewarding, but gives me sweats taking the clothing apart, these dear memorials people held on to for so long
  • I just don’t want to screw it up.
  • But so far, so good
  • After that, writing, both a side project, and my own
  • And, if I get a couple of hours left at the end of the day in which I do not pass out early, I will watch an old movie I have been saving to watch with hubby
  • In the meantime–Onward, ho!
  • Think spring.

 

it is not as if I kept a list

00lacytree

it was snowing a few days before Christmas
and he put his jacket around my shoulders
the smell of leather, a memory, rose
between us
in the clouds from our mouths

the snow looked like diamonds in my hair
he said, and kissed my forehead
while I finished my story, about
the one that got away, the one
that broke me in two for ten months–

he laughed a little at the end
and I shrugged, running a block ahead
while he picked up his jacket
brushed it off
and tried to make sense of me

catching up he grabbed my arm
and I pulled it away
then he called me sweetheart
and I stopped. ‘didn’t you break some hearts
back then?’ he asked–

I turned and smiled, and
he handed me his coat
putting my arms into the sleeves.
I held his hands

‘yeah I did, didn’t I? huh, I had forgotten,’
I said–
and we walked through the park
until it stopped snowing, until
we had run out of memories to tell

A chocolate chip melted in my mouth

while I baked the cookies, taking my
small handful of chocolate on the side
like I always have
my mind wandering
easy to do with a task
I’ve done countless times
cookies to give away
a bit of heart to share in my
own way
made me think of the piece
of someone’s heart
that did not belong to me
I stole for a little while
before I gave him back–isn’t it funny
how the mind can ramble over memories
when the aroma of baking fills the house

In the hall

I wait
my breathing shallow
for the footsteps
on the squeaky stair
my lungs feeling empty
rasping
lost my voice to the loud
‘hello’?
mouth dry
like old air
of that last time
in there
memory fail me now
let’s not remember
brain cells, teach
me how to forget
in the hall
outside the door
at the top of the stairs

Fibers

red dress

 

The man walked past, and
I could have been anyone
but I had been that girl in the club
the night he forgot to tell me
his wife’s name

I never was good with heeding warnings
twenty-three
with a chip on my shoulder
something to prove
I scarce remember
who I wanted to convince

laughing over a glass of
Rodney Strong
cabernet sauvignon
I forget what year
I got wise and no longer cared
what they thought

I had wanted to find him
again
showing off
in Vera Wang red silk
but I think I
could wear anything
or nothing
and be just fine with myself