Archive for September, 2012

It Was Only a Dream…

I dreamt of you last night.  I found you sleeping in my cluttered garage between where the mops and brooms hang on hooks and the stuffed deteriorating cabinets holding cans of housepaint for walls that are no longer that shade of yellow.  Surprised to see you, I helped you to your feet, wanting to wrap you in a hug, but the taste of morning breath lingered in my mouth and  I was reluctant to get too close.

I led you through the garage door into the darkened hallway, everyone asleep. A palmetto bug scurried across the tile floor. I feigned surprise and let out a small scream so you would think it was a rare occurence.  We then walked to the kitchen, I offered you something to eat and drink. You declined, yet inspected the glass closely which I was horrified to see was full of spots.  Standing so close to you, my heart was racing as I memorized the exact shade of brown your eyes were. Wanting so badly to reach out and trace your jaw with my hand, gently touch your goatee, lean in to soflty inhale your scent by nuzzling your neck. I resisted and instead tried to think of somethng to say. Wondering why you were here. How did you find me? Why?

As it  happens only  in dreams we were no longer in my current home, but in a much bigger house, still mine and full of light. I was watching you talking with a shapely woman with honey blonde hair.  I could see your eyes trace her from her painted toes, up her tanned, toned legs. You smiled as your mind wandered underneath her skirt draped softly against her thigh. I couldn’t hear your words to her. Your mouth moved as your eyes and smile danced, entranced by her beauty. I heard your poetry write itself inside my head, felt every caress of words, every desire delivered telepathically to my mind.

Only an observer now, feeling a bit sad that it was this stranger you chose to be with, yet honored to have the ablility to feel your poems move inside my mind. I wondered what it all meant, why you were here.  Where did you come from? As soon as that thought entered my head, I could see an image of a large brick home with a wrap around porch looking out on a perfectly manicured lawn landscaped with beautiful flower beds.

As soon as it began, it was over. I awoke longing for a chance to meet, to hear your voice, feel your breath warm my neck. To be the woman you chose to talk with instead of the interpreter of your mind. Did I feel that I was not good enough, not pretty enough, not worthy of you?

I dreamt of you last night. Most likely the only time we will ever meet, even in my dreams.


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Rippled hope…

Skipping stars across reflective ponds

watching light ripple hope

in darkness

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Collecting stars…

Digging deep into darkness

collecting scattered fragments of light

piecing together the sun

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Language of breath…

No need for words

only he understands

my language of breath

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Her own number one

maybe someday

to someone

but right now she is learning

to be her own

number one

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internet photo

What beauty in the sun

bleeding each evening across the sky

to slip quietly beyond the horizon bringing night.

 Stars shine brilliantly

reminding us

that even in the darkness

there is  light

until sunrise brings another dawn

of endless possiblilites


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Photo by @captainsidcup ~ twitter Used by permission


The most important steps taken are not usually the biggest

but the first.

This weathered staircase

imprinted in memory not with mere footsteps

but soul prints

of  those who against all odds

followed their hearts

to dreams







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Moments stretched…

Moments stretched beyond their shelf life

break into shards of reflective memories

which she paints with love’s light

creating prisms

that color in tomorrow’s dreams


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Photo: My own

Always reaching

beyond blue into light

a long slow stretch into being

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Warm breezes carry songs of summers past

barefoot memories and carefree laughter echo

between cries of Marco!


Rainbow streamers flying from unmanned bike handles

as I rode down the steepest hill

past neighbors cutting grass

arms raised

with a smile on my face

If I close my eyes now

and feel the wind

as I listen to the sound of the lawnmowers

I can almost remember what it felt like

to be brave


and unstoppable

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