Read Between the Lines

The holidays are here and my heart still remains heavy.
As I gaze into the mirror, it’s hard to read between the lines of my life.
The most holy of days has arrived and one that brought me so much joy.
Yet as I look deeper into the mirror, it’s hard to read between the lines.

It’s cold. It’s damp. The winter chill is everywhere.
Is this the causal affect of the lines I struggle to read?
The winter wind blows through my mind; flipping the pages of my life.
The pages move so swiftly, it’s nearly impossible to read between the lines.

The ice on the window, the fog on the mirror
Lets me know that the blistering winter gale winds are not kind.
I lived through spring, summer and fall and now I find myself reflecting
As I move through the winter months of my life.

Will I be here? Will I be there? Where will I be in the future?
No one really knows for sure and yet I always try to read between the lines.
I think of Stacy and all the joy she brought me when I kissed her cheek goodnight.
Sean would hug me so hard with love, I felt as if I’d burst.

When my heart would crack and sometimes break from stations in my life.
I still would stop and analyze and read between the lines.
When I felt alone in the cold and dark, when I felt as if I’d die,
I would toss it up and turn it around and read between the lines.

I’ve come to a point in my life when the end is certainly near.
Am I forgiven? There is so much to think about.
Who did I hurt? Who hurt me? Does it really matter? I think I forgave.
Did I pray enough? Was I prayed for? I think about this a lot.

Both of my children were my absolute world, the only good in my life.
I gave them as much as I could and would give them my last breath.
They’d tell me something and I’d turn it around to read between the lines.
I wanted them to know that I understood in every way I could.

As I gaze into the mirror, to paint a happy face on a very doubtful soul,
My eyes glisten with tears at the happy and sad moments all throughout my life.
It’s not so hard now to understand and read between those lines.
Because those lines appear throughout my face to mark my space in time.

 

Do You Believe?

Do you still believe in the reindeer flying across the midnight sky?
I use to sleep on Christmas Eve with one eye opened wide.
I’d hear the sound of dancing and pounding on my roof.
But in the light of the very next day, I didn’t see any proof.

Do you still believe in the fat little man, a Ho Ho filled with glee?
I use to get a mound of gifts underneath my Christmas tree.
I’d hear the paper wrinkle, the cookie and milk were gone.
But in the morning after, there were no footprints in the lawn.

Do you still believe in the mistle toe that you didn’t want to be under?
I never understood the kissing concept. It always made me wonder.
Do you still believe that Santa is in every single department store?
I can’t stand to even shop – it’s all a tremendous chore!

I don’t believe the reindeers fly or dance upon my roof.
I really think that Santa is just a commercial spoof.
I’m all grown up, the kids are gone and I sit here all alone.
Perhaps my disbelief is the reason Santa doesn’t visit my home.


 


Victorious Love

I've loved and sorrowed, despaired and survived. I've bumped head-on into my own humanity time after time.
Getting in touch with that humanity wasn't an easy thing for me. Nor is it for any of us who were raised to excel, to make contributions to the world, to rise above anger and jealousy and all of those other things that none of us ever rise above.
I don't write about rising above; I write about going through it. In the going through comes the victory - or at least the survival.
I've survived because of prayer, which I believe in, and therapy, which I also believe in, and love - which I believe in most of all.

 


What If?

What if we get a second chance?
What if we open our hearts, make ourselves vulnerable, and risk our emotional stability?
What if we recognize that second chance?
What if we're wise enough to recognize someone who enhances our life?

What if that person sends chills down our body?
What if they put a smile on our face just with the thought of them?
What if you feel you've come home when you arrive there with them?
What if you feel you know them completely and they know you equally?
What if you can make each other laugh with just a few words?
What if their hand stroking your hair makes you weak in the knees?
What if you have someone to help you juggle all the balls in the air?

You can only say "what if" so many times, before you discover you are there,
And that perhaps it is fate.
What if, we take a deep breath and decide to take that second chance . . . on each other?
Let's just enjoy the journey . . . . no matter where it leads . . . together.
What if?


 
OUR LOVE

Even though we can’t be near
You’re missed so much I shed a tear.
You couldn’t be nearer to my heart
The love we share could not be apart.

The way you sigh, the way you smile.
Your strength, your courage all the while.
If others seem to back away,
My love for you will always stay.

My thoughts are with you in every way
Not just on this holiday.
I miss the shuffle of your feet
While baking a dish no one could beat.

I miss the sound of the truck horn blowing
Seeing soon a wise face glowing.
It’s not the presents on Christmas Day
That makes me love you in this special way.

It’s not the birthday card sent to me
That makes my love deeper than any sea.
In some people’s love, I guess this is true
But the love you give me, I give twice to you.

To describe the things that make you mean so much to me
Would take much more than an eternity.
The walk in the fields to peel a peach half
To catch a wild rabbit or see a new calf.

To smell clean air while holding my hand.
You stood like a giant on the wide open land.
To giggle over a mess that I’d made
And when I got older, the way you forgave.

Sometimes when thinking in my fantasy dream
I’ve found a cure to make the world gleam!
It would make sad people happy and sick people well
Earth would be Heaven and there would be no more Hell.

The problem is people, they don’t want to see
There’s more to the word love, than a holiday deed.
There’s more to love, than just to say it,
It’s something you have that no one can take.
It’s not just, “I love you” that can be fake.

I would simply recall all the love that we shared
And ask the Lord in this simple prayer;
Take from the mold which my grandparents were formed
With this, add their wisdom and strength all adorned.

That the whole human race should in this way be made
But most important their value of love, which would never, ever fade.
My cure you see is not so unreal
When you have love, it seems quite ideal.

As our word love cannot clearly be defined
The love I have for you will be clearly in mind.
Ours is an emotion ~ a vibrating wave.
Which travels the miles to our heavenly days.


MY SECRET

Just when I felt I put away my childish ways
You came into my mind.
I never dreamed you’d reappear
To feelings I thought I’d left behind.

Presumptuous of me to create you
As I dream that you will be;
Without knowing you at all,
You’ve become very close to me

I wonder what drink you drink
Or music you like to hear.
I’ve even convinced myself I even know
Your dreams and inner fears.

I realize I may be setting myself up
Only to take a fall.
But I’d rather deal with what I’ve said
Then to never have told you at all.


 


MY CHILD AND I

Once, a life filled with the richness and joy No one but a child could comprehend.
Once, a life with the pureness of a daisy; fresh, kissed with the morning dew.
Once, fullness, now sparse as a desert. Once, fresh, now spoiled.

Where did his life go?
Can life die within a living soul?
Can it be completely destroyed?

As I ponder on my thoughts of where a life I had went
Or maybe of a life I’ve dreamed of, minutes, hours and
Days pass quickly before me.

Once, my past days seemed happy. But, dark days followed
Closely and all memories of what seemed joyful soon
Disappeared and only sorrow prevailed.

Once, love seemed fulfilling with what I thought was shared emotions.
Deceived and nearly destroyed, a dark thundering cloud hangs hovering over my heart.
Once, happy with the thought of child—but seeing, as gazing through clear glass only one heart was joyful..

Once, again deceived and nearly destroyed.
Leaving, farness was not near enough.
My heart, my mind and my child.
Now, not once, but now my life is empty, cold and dark.

Openly aware of the deceit ahead of my new life.
Not so much the awareness of deceit but the necessity to be aware of people.
Now, more prepared, but still nearly destroyed, I will ascend to the nearness of happiness.
As near as possible; my child and I ~ alone.


 


LOVE OFFERS NO GUARANTEES

I’ve desired love, encouraged love and felt love.
With this, physically fulfilled momentarily,
Silence is the loudest sound heard.

Emotions flush my body and soul as quickly as sand of an hour glass.
Wanting, loving hoping and the desire for a moment of happiness
And to feel fulfilled as a woman

His kisses now seem more meaningful. His touch more tender.
Leaving me in a dream world of fantasy and one of great ecstasy.
For this I feel he now truly loves me.
But does one ever know the thoughts of one man?

The silence is broken by the sound of a closing door; and he’s gone.
As I think back of the sound of the many doors that closed,
Breaking the barrier of silence, I feel it to be much more defining than any explosion ever heard.

Warning myself a thousand times, and yet somehow I keep reliving the same fantasy scene.
Hoping to find a true, meaningful relationship.
But this kind of love, if love can at all be divided into categories, offers no guarantees.
Knowing this, shall I await his return again accompanied with promises?

Why not? After all, life itself is a fantasy.
Reality escapes us all, maybe not often enough.
Life offers little or no guarantees either.
And when I hear a key turning at the door, my heart pounds
And the problems of the world outside escapes me freely.
Even if momentarily, I feel happy, safe and secure.


 
My SugaBee

Santa came to a house late one Christmas night.
He thought he was lost and turned on a light.
There in the corner a blonde head he did see
He said, “What’s your name?” and she whispered, “Hailey.”

“Your MiMi told me you were pretty you see
But she told me your name was little SugaBee.”
“Yes that’s what she calls me Santa,” she said.
“She told me I’m sweet when she puts me to bed.”

“She said my kisses would melt all the snow
And that’s why we live where there’s sand all aglow.”
“Your MiMi sent me a letter last week
And told me you’re not at all timid or meek.”

“She said you are smart, pretty and kind.
She said to leave lots of gifts you will find.
I wrapped them in paper, glitter and bows.
But you can not see now you just mustn’t know.”

“She told me she loved you with all of her heart.
And said you were good and very, very smart.
Your MiMi asked me to give you some books
She said you would take hours and hours to look.”

“She said you were kind to your brothers of two.
And told me you loved your flip flops and your shoes.
So please go to bed and close your pretty eyes.
Before you know it I’ll be back in the sky.”


 


Sweet T

My sweet little boy who’s growing so tall.
His white hair, tan skin when he was so small.
His first fishing trip to the Pier that we took
Was the trip that caught him by the bait on his hook.

From that first day with pelicans taller than he
Was the day that the addiction started to be.
The trips on the boat where we fished until dark.
Excited him more than a clown in the park.

He’d nap between stops by the sound of the motor
And wake up when stopped to put out a new floater.
With sharks caught at night he’d scream with delight
And those in the day that would pull his line tight.

He’d pitch a tent and spend all night.
If you’d let him and he had a few bites.
I call him Sweet T because he is nothing less
He sweetens my life and melts all my distress.

He’s a man among men by being sweet and yet strong.
The decisions he’ll make will be more right than wrong.
He still kisses his MiMi and gives me a shout.
To tell me how many grunts, mackerel or trout.

His dream is deep sea and I’m sure he’ll be there.
One day when he’s older and his boat is sea fair.
When others did drugs or drink through the night
My Sweet T will be fishing for the next great big bite.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.01.2010

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