Something to Write About


Petal of a pelargonium - taken in the evening ...
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I never had
to suppose,

Why some of
the shades she never closed,

The shades
facing me,

Were left
open so I could see,

It was a
ritual,

Turning on
the tap,

Pouring in
her bath soaps,

Knowing it
would raise my hopes,

Let the pink
bubbles rise,

While I’d
pretend to be surprised,

Always the
same routine,

But a feast
for my eyes,

She called
it her private heaven,

Every day
about seven,

She’d soak
away,

All the
troubles of her day,

Sprinkling
rose petals that were real,

Saying the
petals made her feel,

Like a
thirsty flower soaking in the rain,

Then she
would undress, leaving me in pain,

As she
slipped into the curative water,

To soak with
her eyes closed,

Occasionally
she would peek,

To see if I was
watching, I supposed,

Wrinkled when
she emerged,

She would lift her breasts as an offering,

And look at
me always smiling,

As she
stepped out to dry,

Her eyes
would question why,

With a nod
and a wink,

She always
made me think,

Seeing her
in all her glory,

Indicated her
willingness,

To be part
of my story,

“Now you
have something,

To write
about,” she would say,

“Make your
story good enough,

To make my
day,”

When my
broken bones,

Were on the
mend,

I went to see
my friend,

But she had
simply flown away,

That’s what
I say,

And there’s
no doubt,

She gave me
something to write about.

“I’ll Promise You This”


Primavera, Spring, made in 1638, part of a ser...
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A cloudburst
in summer,

Soaked to
the skin,

My heart is
melting,

“Won’t you
please let me in?”

A blizzard
in winter,

I’m frozen
to the core,

My love is
ready,

“Won’t you
open the door?”

The flaming leaves
of autumn,

Are starting
to fall,

How long
must I wait,

“Don’t you
love me at all?”

When the
birds are returning,

At the
greening of spring,

I’ll tell
you, “I love you,”

And give you
a ring,

My heart is
broken,

But I’ll
promise you this,

I’ll dance
at your wedding,

And give you
a kiss,

If my dreams
were real,

As real as
could be,

I’d enjoy
the four seasons,

Having you
here with me.

A Frozen Flower and Me


A poster with twelve species of flowers or clu...
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I found a
frozen flower,

As I walked
beside the pond,

Its petals
spoke of summer,

Its fragrance
lingered on,

I picked it
up gently,

For I feared it would break,

I whispered
to it softly,

Perchance it
would awake,

Its petals
softened one by one,

Within my
warming hand,

I thought I
saw the blossom smile,

At first I
did not understand,

But the
reason became clear,

As it gave a
blissful gasp,

I had freed
it from its prison,

And loosed
the icy grasp,

What meaning
could there be,

As I
compared the flower to me,

What could I learn from one flower,

When I freed
its awesome power?

 

Our words
were warm but empty,

As we walked
beside the pond,

We spoke of
our love in summer,

And now the
memory lingers on,

Our love was
so much like a flower,

With petals
soft and warm,

It had
flourished in the summer,

But dared
not face fall’s storm,

When an icy
wind began to prowl,

Slipping
around corners while it kissed the air,

Our love
couldn’t stand the chill,

As summer
gave way to the cold,

Words alone wouldn’t warm the heart,

We had been
so very good together,

But we could
not last apart,

If we just
look past winter,

With the
first advent of spring,

Perhaps our
love will blossom again,

And we’ll
see what fruits it’ll bring.

 

 

Where Did Winter Go?


A baby wearing many items of winter clothing: ...
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Just when I thought I was tired of the snow,

Along came summer temperatures, winter, where did you go?

I didn’t have to worry about the grass under the snow,

Now I can hear it growing, and winter, where did you go?

When the cold was here, I needed several layers to don,

Now clothing is minimal, it’s clear that winter has gone,

But the trees are happy with their foliage of green,

And animals are dancing without fear of being seen,

If the forest is happy, why should I complain?

I enjoy the summer’s beauty, including the torrential rain,

I need several weeks of transition, I think it’s called spring,

Where are the mild temperatures, the beauty and everything?

But the real truth I can’t deny, has nothing to do with fate,

It seems I get myself in a bind because I procrastinate,

A few things have me bothered, I’ve really begun to sweat,

Things that broke last year haven’t been repaired yet,

I wouldn’t have to fix anything if we still had winter’s cold,

And winter clothing that’s hanging yet, I wouldn’t have to fold,

Summer has come on so fast, I haven’t had time to think,

There’s mowing, cleaning, etc, and my ac is on the blink,

I’ll talk to that author who wrote “Midsummer Night’s Dream”,

He made it sound like summer’s fun, while I just want to scream,

Do you think he might listen while I go through my list of woe?

Or am I wasting my time when I ask him, “Where did winter go?”

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