December 2013

December 30, 2013December 30, 2013

Sunday’s Child Suspended

sunday’s child suspended
in balanced dreams
is the illusion of time
made of silk threads
strong as dovetailed beams

you see in re-claimed jars
through his eyes untold
tiger striped garden spiders
beauty of captured bees
lifes’ mystery doth unfold

sunday’s child suspended
a cocoon created of time
silk threads weaving a life
unique, tempered and bold
a blended pattern that shines

Image by Mary Corbet http://www.needlenthread.com

I have five adult children and many grandchildren but of my five, only one was born on a Sunday and my life’s love and challenge. They are all special in their own ways but Nathan is my Sunday child.

December 22, 2013

**Between Dusk & Dawn*

i am caught
between dusk & dawn
the sandman a shadow
touching my back
all illusion and mist
both nemesis & muse
while i am his pawn

he steps just behind me
with a sprinkling of sand
each particle holding sleep
in the palm of his hand

he holds the power & ability
for me to create
dusk left behind me
as nights’ path to dawn
& the sunlight’s open gate

By Jorgeyu/Morgue File

December 3, 2013

hibiscus grows beautiful
reds
oranges
yellows
i see them through your eyes
eyes no longer seeing
& the mockingbird sings
no song of his own
as the sun sets
spilling light
over those things
you left
for us to love

Image Taken From Morgue File

December 1, 2013

The Memory Thief

feathered cobwebs secreted
in the color of gray mist
thick as yellow turpentine
like filtered rays of sun
days longing to be kissed

light filters through
from a place called Spring
soft moments slipping away
brushing against your cheek

whispers fill the emptiness
playing amongst your dreams
settling in the hallways
hidden from sunlit streams

edges are tinged in sadness
as a funeral wreath displayed
before life was colored green
when the air was scent imbued
before time began falling away

a thief crept silently to you
as you felt a rush of air
as feathered cobwebs gathered
in the color of gray mist
now caught in memories’ lair

Photo by Karpati Gabor/Morgue File

A visit with my dad recently brought closer to home, once again, the dilemma of growing old and having memory problems. I find, at the age of 61, that I, myself, cannot remember sometimes the things I need to…that seem just out of reach. Dad was diagnosed with mild to moderate dementia and on good days, he is “spot on” as they say. But other days I can see the fog that settles in as he struggles to grasp those things that came so easily to him only a few months ago. He is in very good health and for that I am thankful but sometimes wish he was just a bit more of his old self. We have all adjusted as with time everything changes.