Monthly Archives: April 2019

The red wheelbarrow

With apologies to W.C.W.

Sitting in a corner,

Long neglected

And rarely visited.

The metal wheel

Rusted red

The color of the cold hard clay

It rests upon.

Fire truck red slats

Now faded and peeling

In the summer’s sun.

Weeds grow tall around it

And embrace the barrow

Like the mother and child.

 

Once the gardener had hope

For this place,

And this wheelbarrow

Was her instrument of change.

Dreaming of moving

Her flower creations

To match her whimsy

Painting masterworks

With sprouting petals.

 

What happened to your dreams?

Your pretty plans?

They belong to another time

When hope sprang in this wild place

Like dew covered blossoms

Rejoicing in the morning’s sun.

Now she sits inside,

And drinks her wine,

Dreaming of another time.

 

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Slipping 04/13/19

She slipped away

With the dying of the day

Facing east

Sun in the west

Darkness rising

From the ocean

Before her.

 

She felt peace and comfort.

Strange

Because all she ever wanted

Was excitement.

A tormented soul

No longer tormented

By demons of her own

Creation

And others who found

An empty shell

Where happiness

Once resided.

 

She was happy once

Way back before the

Needles,

And alcohol,

And depression.

 

So far away

And long ago.

Barely remembered

Until the slipping started.

Sitting under the

Japanese Maple

Listening to the birds

Feeling love

And safety

In that house

On Laurel Lane.