Thursday, July 28, 2016

Overshadowed


Overshadowed

I am always in your shadow.
The dark, cold spot left by your death.
I cannot seem to catch my breath.
I don't know which path to follow.
If I turn, I still meet sorrow.
Alone, yet sensing you hover
near but unseen--undercover.
Don't know how to shake the feeling.
Day by day, it sends me reeling.
Balance is hard to recover.

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Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Drenched


Drenched

All of a sudden,
the downpour begins.
In seconds, you
are drenched.
Clothes soggy,
hair matted down.
Shoes making that
squishy sound.
You begin to dry
out before you
can comprehend
what hit you.

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Thursday, July 21, 2016

Spotlights


Spotlights

Spots of light
decorate all they touch,
like spatter from
a painter's brush.

They sparkle among
the shadows and
draw the eyes to
colorful patterns
in black and white.

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Tuesday, July 19, 2016

In Full Bloom


In Full Bloom

The bud sits
and watches
the flower.
Wishes it could
grow up overnight,
but the journey
to flowerhood
takes time.

So, the bud
basks in the sun.
Drinks water.
Wrestles with
the wind.
Dreams of
the day it
will open and
sit on display,
in full bloom.

I like to watch the life cycle of the flowers. 

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Thursday, July 14, 2016

A Bad Waiter


A Bad Waiter

I wish I were
a good waiter,
content to sit
in the car and
crawl past the
orange cones.
Relaxed when
standing in
any line.
Unphased by
the ticking away
of  the time
it takes to navigate
daily tasks.
Will I ever become one?
I'll have to wait and see.

Are you a good waiter?

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Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Broken


Broken

I awaken to
the sunlight.
Move in sync
with those
around me.
I am comfortable
with the rhythm.
Suddenly, the
day darkens.
I am jostled
forward, backward
side-to-side.
I hear others crack.
I bend, bend until
I break and fly
through the air,
turn and turn
then stop abruptly.
I stand, but am
not sure how to
get back up.

I like to take photographs after a storm. I couldn't resist this branch caught in a shrub.

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Thursday, July 7, 2016

Sometimes, It Rains Too Hard


Sometimes, It Rains Too Hard

The steady shower
that is welcomed
by the grateful ground
grows impatient.
It pours from
every cloud.
Picks up the tempo.
Pounds on the roofs.
Runs from the plants.
Spills over into places
it doesn't belong.
Sits in puddles
until the sun
lifts it back
into the air.

Do you write about storms?  

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