******Dissolving Pearls******

adrift on the tide of time
ebbing and receding quickly now
dissolving pearls seen
as minutes of time
becoming particles of sand
an hourglass known
to be tailored to each one

recognition briefly still here
the brightness of a smile
a twinkle in the eye
checking memories each one
to know they do remain

a lucky penny catches the eye
it is quickly snatched up
deposited in a pocket
a mockingbird song entertains
sun up to sun down
each note a suggestion…
of something

the sadness finally dissipated
as a rain now a fine mist
settling but only briefly
the sun always bringing
a warmth to the soul
a new day beginning

looking around for the familiar
knowing it is there
just beneath a hazy morning
burning off in the heat of day
where all is now clear
the years only an illusion
and youth just beginning

© June 2014 Renee Espriu

Visiting dad always has the variable of “what if” involved. Now at 90 plus years of age and due to mild to moderate dementia, dad has good days and not so good, and through it all he still perseveres and manages to get through every day no matter what.

Image Taken From Morgue File

Dissolving Pearls

********Things You Left ********

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

© December 2013
Renee Espriu

Hibiscus

Image Taken From Morgue File

 

Mockingbird’s Yearning

wee small hours of the morning        
call to me with the voice of
the Mockingbird’s yearning

calling out lyrics and notes
not his own but achingly
captured in his own throat

darkness hiding winged form
musical song simply rising
listen to quell the storm

awaken your soul come with me
symphony, sonnet now mine
taken to sing so lovingly

there he is with stolen song
trilling with great pleasure
beckoning me to sing along

creating light in the night sky
patterned prism colors rising
rapt audience of one sublime

longing for a song of his own
to widen the net of listeners
as though his voice has flown

but he knows only other’s muse
so claim them he does one by one
singing again without any ruse

wee small hours of the morning
call to me with the voice of
the Mockingbird’s yearning

© June 2012
Renee Espriu

During my visit here in sunny Southern California I was awakened to the sound of this beautiful creature’s song like no other. The Mocking Bird has no song of his own but when he sings all the songs of all the other birds it is as though a resonate sound of an orchestra has filled the morning hours.