Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Sweeping over

She Swept

Day and night she swept ,
night and day she swept the floor
looking for a little bit of hope
for her husband was no more.

Monday was laundry day,
so she hung laundry on the line
telling neighbors she was OK;
they thought she was looking fine.

Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor
looking for a speck of dignity
beyond the safety of her door.

Tuesday was market day,
and the few coins she held near,
were not enough for what she needed;
she clenched them tight in fear.

Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor,
retreating into her little world
with little hope of having more.

Wednesday was a special day,
as she sat mumbling at his graveside,
telling how she'd spent the years
saying she would live until she died.

Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor,
but now she was getting weary
of pushing dust underneath the door.

Thursday passed in a foggy blur
as she swept the floor once more
and she strained to remember his face
but her eyes were tired and sore.

Clutching a broom in her hands,
Friday found her lying on the floor
with gold coins scattered everywhere,
and the sleeping widow swept no more.


Thursday, May 2, 2013

It's Late

It's late, the lights are out save one;
its streams uncover my thoughts,
and  I know I should be sleeping
but memories stir like fine mist.

In foggy past, school bells ring
calling the curious to their door
but I languish beside a rushing stream
where currents play and sing.

My neighbor throws his book away
as soon as school lets out,
but somewhere in the distance
he hears the echoes of learning.

I lay on the earth midst sun flowers
closing my eyes while sipping beauty
and the sun gently kisses my face
reminding me, I'm never alone.

Embracing warmth upon my face
while cool breezes caress my hair,
I desire a return to childhood days
when the world was right side up.

When the moon comes out of hiding
I am two dozen miles down the road,
but it seems like a short distance
from my youth to the present time.

 It's quiet in this meadow of mine
as I turn back for one last look
hearing nature sigh in whispers
singing songs I've long forgotten.

It's late, all lights are out save one;
its streams cover over my thoughts,
painting meadows and sunflowers
amidst noise of rolling thunder.

Before you Know it

He placed 70 candles on her cake,

lighting each one with a smile,

and he heard her singing a little tune

Before you know it, you'll be old.

Around the door he peeped

he saw the brush glide through her hair,

her tresses blazed like polished silver

and he knew she would never be old.

To him, she was still the little girl

with raven braids and crooked teeth

swinging so high in a homemade swing,

he could not see her as old.

Her floral dress brought memories

of a school prom so long ago

where he reminded her of his undying love;

oh no, she would never grow old.

He mused how life takes you to the edge

of eternity and suspends you there

with the choicest pearl in all the world

she, who still adores him with her eyes.

He watched as she blew out the candles

and then she sang a little tune,

Before you know it, you'll be old

but we're lucky to be so young.