Tattered Memories

Tattered Memories
For Noah

The letter speaks of loss.

There on a tattered

paper,

folded again and again,

the assignment you never handed in

speaks truth.

Your words,

already a year old,

to a future self,

tear my soul.

There you dared to whisper

your confusion about God,

your frustration with school,

your fears about this country’s leader,

and the darkness in your soul.

I touch the words with the tired hands

of a mother struggling to help,

grateful to have reached in time.

Her little blonde and laughing boy,

one hand in a puddle,

and one hand in the cheerios,

so quickly a young man,

one hand on the paper,

one hand on the pen.

April

April
(For Ed)

And so it was that you shared

your story with me,

shared yourself with me.

Long walks,

tears and truths,

laughter.

Shared with reincarnated dogs,

and stars,

in quiet neighborhoods.

Stories under the expanse,

minds that were galaxies away

from the park where we sat.

There, on a peaceful stage,

we played the parts of broken lovers,

fallen stars,

yearning for the happy endings

the script once promised.

Dressed in costumes both,

improvising our way to the real

in us.

Don't go.....

Don’t go…..

(For Annahalle on the day you turned all your college apps in.)

too far.

These mothers arms

will yearn for your hug,

and you don’t know it yet,

but your freshman arms

will yearn for my hug too.

too hard.

There is no reason to

push yourself to excel

till you miss all the important things

like football, 2 AM pizza,

panty raids, and parties.

too smart.

Be responsible.

But make sure you live a little.

Go to the wild concert (with a friend),

skinny dip at night,

flirt, dance, kiss.

too worried.

We will miss you.

But we will walk your dog,

make our own smoothies,

and choose our own music.

We will be fine.

too fast.

This last year will fly by.

Enjoy your friends,

be as much in today as tomorrow,

savor the last times,

embrace the first times.

too long.

I will want you home

before I ever drive away.

When thanksgiving comes,

sleep in your own bed,

bring your laundry,

your music, and your arms.

Don’t stay.

Soft

Soft

Little warm bodies

curled soft and quiet

around priceless lovies,

under precious beloved blankets.

Soft quiet breathing,

languid mumbling,

rustles of feet and fingers

lost in a land of dreams.

My classroom is gentle,

lit only by the glow

of new falling snow

outside the window.

Soft music soaks into everything.

Slowly,

sleepy eyes

peer out at me from under

soft lashes.

Little yawns and

slow stretches

call to me.

I fluff soft hair,

dress warm bare feet

with socks and shoes,

and cuddle.

Short arms and soft skin

wrap around me.

Waking slowly

they lie loose and

tenderly

on my shoulder,

gazing at softly

blowing snow.

This is my favorite

part of the day:

when everything is

soft.

Salvation and Transfiguration

Salvation

So much depends

upon a cup,

held to innocent lips,

in lilly-white

brown hands.

Transfiguration

So much depends

upon a cup,

held to guilty lips,

in stained crimson

white hands.

Portmanteau

Portmanteau

crimson gold

crold

breezy calm

bralm

sweet spicy

swicy

sunny shade

shaney

crunchy quiet

criet

chilly warm

charm

such is the fantasy of Autumn

Deep October

Deep October

Would you deny me yet one more day

of blissful colors as breezes sway,

or wouldst thou give me a glistening hour,

this earthly paradise to devour?

For mine desire rises strong and heady,

the cold of winter soon made ready,

to eke out yet one more spiced afternoon,

one more kiss under a harvest moon.

A few more steps midst fallen arbor,

the last hurrah before safe harbor,

this last golden promise to keep,

before the world drifts into sleep.