I began writing in journals when I lost my boys (accident and war). Their pets saved me and poetry – discovered a year ago – brings me peace. I live in Florida with my husband of 51 years and our dog and cat rescues. I feel most fortunate to have some of my scribbles published here on The Blue Nib.
my leg jumps,
I wait for a friendly neighbor to evaporate,
my ears shut down but my eyes stare
soaking in her smiles,
they fill with her clucks
and burn down my cheeks.
I look up rude in my history,
practice slamming the front door
ignoring the screams burning my scalp,
shadows tattoo my eyelids
brand my tongue,
wasp’s breath from murder
my twitch settles into a sonnet about my garden,
unwilling to share the ink tracing my heart
A Different View
she fled her reflection,
wilted briar tangled in shadows
like muddy footprints staining her sunny day.
twilight’s silver melts a sable whisper
sparkling on feathered notes,
cast not upon her portrait
but on her origami heart,
unfolding an aria,
its blossoming smile laced in honey
dripping pearls a nightingale wept.
One Last Chat
a gray mist blankets
the path to your cottage
casts a slip of teardrops on my cheeks.
I round a copse of fir
smell piney dew hiding in needled boughs,
feel the slumbered breath of silence.
the meadow beyond hosts one red-leafed maple,
crows decorating a sleepy limb
lift at my arrival
their goodbyes distant whispers of memories
scenting a breeze with your laughter.
where once a for sale sign played
echoes of empty wishes sigh goodnight.
soon a young family will turn threadbare lonely
into golden smiles
and I will travel past your treasure
glowing beneath primrose sunsets kissing indigo skies
with no more chats to share.