Boys are such interesting creatures
sometimes clean, often smudged
but always lovable.
On a swing in the backyard
or huddled under a blanket fort,
they are never boring.
My boys are my strength
and sometimes my weakness
Their eyes are full of mystery.
I will love them always!
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
A splash of color
A splash of color on a stark white canvas
can improve any surrounding.
I prefer poppies.
Red and green against a bluebird sky.
These are things that brighten my day.
can improve any surrounding.
I prefer poppies.
Red and green against a bluebird sky.
These are things that brighten my day.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
A start
If I were going to write a novel it would start like this...
The apple orchard spread out down the hill like a blanket of white blossoms. It was almost like stepping out of time and into a place in history that no longer existed. There were no telephone poles, no sattelite dishes and definitely no freeways. Only the soft buzz of a summer breeze.
The apple orchard spread out down the hill like a blanket of white blossoms. It was almost like stepping out of time and into a place in history that no longer existed. There were no telephone poles, no sattelite dishes and definitely no freeways. Only the soft buzz of a summer breeze.
There once was a girl...
There once was a little girl
a blonde-haired, pot-bellied, happy little girl
and she loved her dog and her brother
and she ran the world.
And time drifted forward into a new age
and the little girl's hair turned brown
and her belly hard
and she loved balls and quiet places
where she could escape the world.
And one day that girl became a woman
who still felt like a little girl
and she lost site of what she loved
except for one boy
who was her world.
And sometimes she will sit in a quiet place
and wonder who this woman is that she has become
who no longer runs the world
but sees it in her children's eyes.
a blonde-haired, pot-bellied, happy little girl
and she loved her dog and her brother
and she ran the world.
And time drifted forward into a new age
and the little girl's hair turned brown
and her belly hard
and she loved balls and quiet places
where she could escape the world.
And one day that girl became a woman
who still felt like a little girl
and she lost site of what she loved
except for one boy
who was her world.
And sometimes she will sit in a quiet place
and wonder who this woman is that she has become
who no longer runs the world
but sees it in her children's eyes.
A few warm thoughts
Over the years I've dabbled in writing and poetry as a means of recording the things of my soul. There are some talents I've been blessed with and others that I have to work on to keep them shining. This blog is a place to practice some of those talents in order to improve them. But mostly it will contain a few warm thoughts.
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