Dec. 6, 2008

I’ve often wondered
as the “writes” I read,
how each of us are alone indeed.
Hearts so full of passion
and feelings galore,
full of laughter and even more.
A willingness to hold a hand
of someone we’ve never met,
and let them know we won’t forget.
Amazing to me,
what it is we can’t see,
that “thing” that  sometimes grabs you or me.
My faith tells me, that those feelings
SOMETIMES come from above,
wanting us to understand the difference
between being alone and being loved.
The lonely times when we do feel blue,
are meant to be something for
us to know what is true.
Compare and contrast,
look for what will last.
Give love with extra measure,
not seeking self-gratifying pleasure.
I now walk through the lonely moments,
taking note and wanting to understand,
what I will do better,
when the right person walks up and asks
to take my hand.                                                                           A  walk with someone who sees me for me,
and not what he pretends I could or should be
a walk along a path where he now understands
there is a difference between the sadness
and the walk hand in hand.
Back in 2008, I was walking a road, seeking…I found some poets to share the journey with. I will be  eternally grateful for each of them, they listened, and touched my heart with their presence.  They helped me understand “me”.

For Kayla

Brown eyed girl
soft-spoken and true,
Mother embraced lifetime,
smile filled moments centered on you.

Cut from a culturally held cloth,
woven and pieced together
with such care,
much to offer, much to share.

Radiant light shone
and lit up a room
You danced to your own
favorite tune.

Dreams of tomorrow
in a heart kept,
Journey found in cadence
with a metered step.

A smile that soothed others
while with your hands you served,
A quiet presence,
more than thank you…you deserved.

Obedience and pleasure
that filled a filmstrip frame,
Moments captured
on a Paris plain.

A walk with a Father
who with gentle hand care,
brings you to safety
and a knowing that you are sheltered There.

My dear sweet Kayla
an angel, that heaven will hold
a song and a smile
where the Saints never grow old.

Book Retail Store

He asked for one season
He purchased three
How long will he stay hidden
No one else to see.

Her list on a phone grid
she was frustrated
Really didn’t want to, but did
birthdays are overrated.

Line moved slowly
for coffee and more
not enough money
“Overpriced!” was her roar.

Buying is a choice
when through the doors you enter
No need raising your voice
When you brought in the splinter.

Reflection about those who I met across the bookstore counter.

November 3, 2016