the red rose

Here. For you. The red rose.

Not as pretty as you. But it will do. I guess.

To say. I love you.

The mold

‘That girl over there… you see her?’

‘Yeah, what about her?’

‘They broke the mold after making her.’

‘Yeah, I see what you mean. But you know what I think, I think a mold is broken every time a woman is made?’

‘Yeah, true.’

‘How about us, you think we each had our own mold?’

‘Nah,  I think they kept using the same old one over and over again’

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She didn’t marry her soul mate

She didn’t marry her soul mate, but she married the right one.

when she left us

 It was a cold, cold day when she left us, she took all the light with her, she took all the music with her, she took all the laughter with her,  and we were left cold on that cold, cold day she left us.

It was a cold, cold day when she left us, we had to save our drowned hearts, we had to swim against the pressing waters, we had to pull our drenched bodies out, and we remained gasping for breath on that cold, cold day she left us.

It was a cold, cold day when she left us, we looked for her in our hearts, we looked for her in our dreams, we looked for her in our souls.  And we found her there, and there, and there.

And that is where she now lives – in us, always, forever.

For ten years.

If she is lucky, she will catch a glimpse of his eyes.  His beautiful, beautiful eyes.  Maybe he will look towards her and smile.  With his beautiful, beautiful smile.  Perhaps if she moves closer, her hands would brush against his hands.  His beautiful, beautiful hands.

And for ten years.  Everyday, her heart sinks when his beautiful eyes meet hers.  Everyday, her blood warms when his beautiful smile falls upon her.  Everyday, her toes tingle when his beautiful hands touch hers.  Every single day, she falls in love with her beautiful, beautiful man all over again, and again, and again.

Hey, old friend.

“Hey, old friend.  Remember the day you betrayed me.  It’s been years.  But I haven’t forgotten. The bitter taste still lingers on my tongue.

Hey, old friend.  Remember when I showed you how to kick a ball, dunk a basket, hit a home run.  The other boys laughed, only I stood by you.  But then you gave me your back.  The clench of my fist still hasn’t loosened.

Hey, old friend.  Remember when I taught you how to shave your chin, style your hair, pick your clothes.  You came out looking good for the girls.  But then you denied me.  The punch in my chest still sinks deep.

Hey, old friend.  My little boy sits next to your little boy in class.  I said to him, ‘His father was an old friend.’  But I didn’t tell him of your bitter tasting, chest punching, fist clenching betrayal.  I taught my son well, I hope you have taught yours better.”

why wait tomorrow

why wait tomorrow, when you can embrace her today,

why wait tomorrow, when you can love her today,

why wait tomorrow, when you can give her today,

why wait tomorrow, when tomorrow might take her away.

It’s ok, Mama

‘I held your then little hand and tried to lead, but I kept losing the way.’

‘It’s ok, Mama.  You really were too young to know.’

‘And you know, I really thought I was doing what was best.’

‘I know, Mama.  And you were doing your best.’

‘But you came out fine.’

‘Fine like you, Mama.’

at peace

the loose ring on your finger – let it fall.  weight of rock and metal off, your hands lift above.

the empty pillow by your side – let it bare.  crisp white linen case washed clean , your canvas is anew

the single spoon in your cup – let it click.  solo chime against the china,  your music is pronounced

the one lane road below your feet – let it lead.  diverged path from the two-lane, your self is reclaimed.

be at peace dear friend

Chicken dinner

Chairs around the wooden table.  Tablecloth of charming blue elephants.  Purple daisies in a glass vase.  And a simple chicken dinner.

That’s all it is.  A simple chicken dinner.  Made with love.  Served with love.  Shared with love.

It tastes of love.