poem
-
Some Father’s Days, I find myself standing in two places at once. I’m the daughter who grew up wrapped in a love that never asked for anything back — and I’m the mother now, watching my own Little Miss look up at her father the way I once looked up at mine. This year, that…
-
The cursor blinks. I stare. It blinks.I make some tea. I check the sink.I rearrange my desk at noon,I him old songs and relax by their tune.The great idea is almost there.I feel it, just beyond the air.I open Notes. I write “The”. Then I Google whether cats feel Zen.An hour passes. Maybe two.I draft…
-
I will have held Little Miss’s hand through every storm,And she will have taught meWhat strength really looks like.Little Miss will have laughedIn a world that didn’t always understand herAnd that laugh will have beenThe most honest soundI ever heard.There will have been hard mornings,Doors that wouldn’t open,Words that wouldn’t come,Days that asked more than…
-
As I sit in the garden and look around,The trees sway gently in the breeze,Their leaves rustling like a symphony.The nests among these leaves,Are where the birds live.They chirp and sing with ease,As they fly through the sky so heavenly. The flowers bloom in a rainbow of hues,Their petals soft and delicate to the touch.The…