Contributor Posts

Who am I to say
On this very grey day,
About the lives of another.
I am sure I can opine,
Point of views to you,
About your loss in life,
As both a wife and a mother.

The Rhododendron leaves are curled tight
To prevent damage, from Frost's bite.
The plant, shrunken from the cold,
Has an ugliness, in my sight
Not the beauty that I did behold.
Warmer weather is what we need,
With some rain and more plant feed.

I love these days of Sun
When plants emerge from the earth.
Pushing through the cold, cold ground,
Like birthing life with no noise.
Soon the season of our Spring
Will be here. Filled with growth
Of beautiful Perennials and of bulbs.
Sounds of birds, seeking food to eat.
The appearances of Bees, flitting there
At the flowered plants, a variety
Of colors, both reds and yellows.
What a feast for eyes it will be
Bringing the tranquility of natures love.
When neighbors pass and compliment
I feel good about the work
Of keeping up our floral display.

Oh the love I have for you,
Is more than I can ever say,
As I watch you slowly slip away.
While your body, has much ache and pain,
The person you are, does still remain.
One I've loved over all the years
And the beautiful face of yours, appears
The same as the one that started
My love for you. Now I am broken hearted.

There is no sound of broken glass,
Nor the sound of a branch broken,
That the heart makes, in a morass
Of painful angst, with no word spoken.
For my love remains here for thee
While you, my love, no longer remember me.

I tire on this cold, chilly day,
When Winter keeps our Spring at bay.
I pray that this long cold spell,
Leaves us soon. I know it will.

Remembering back to those adventures galore,
In the days of late Summer, away to the shore.
Joyful we were and we lacked hesitation.
Packing up the car for a vacation.
Pile into the car, kids in the back,
On our way; we can soon relax
Head down the road and don't forget,
The kids asking, " Are we there yet?

I've written down words,
Some strange words galore,
About leaving these writings
On the cold, cold floor.
When these words, spring into my head,
So rapidly that my eyes can't shed
The tears that gather on my eye lid.
So I write fast and if they did,
Stay on my eyes, as a vapor
And not fall down upon my paper.

North of Ellensburg, not too far ahead,
Is a creek, with lock and gate,
Referred to as the Naneum Watershed.
When I was young and liked to fish,
I would go through weeds with dread
To wet my line and make a wish
For there were Rattlesnakes around
Lying somewhere on the ground.
To catch a fish, with hook and line
For fishing was a love of mine.

The Moon hides behind the cloudy wisps
As it plays out it's Solar game.
Air is chilled, as a Northern wind
Places frost on window sill and pane.
The false Spring encouraged plants to grow.
This cold snap, a test of will,
Should soon be over, so warming Sun,
Heats the ground, creating many colors.
My inner feelings tell me to till
The soil; sow the seed and plant
The Primroses to brighten the drab garden,
Until the perennials are in bloom again.

Long years ago, with days no more,
Became our history and "days of yore".
Tales we could tell of our adventure,
Would more likely, be one of censure.
These stories could stand on their own
And probably never be told at home,
For life, which can be a mess,
Can also be one of happiness.
That my friend is up to thee
And your choice is for eternity.

Do the words, I write, touch you?
If they don't, it's OK, to turn away
From this page and plan to renew
Your own vows to live another day.