Vintage Memories

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Passed through the screen door,
Recalled the carpeted staircase,
Felt the pull of Maxine,
Grandmother, to me.
Twenty-three years, two months
Since we stood closely,
Right here
Packing odds and ends
To her,
Treasures, to me.
Cabinet I’ll never forget
Cookie dough testing,
“Needs flour, touch it, you’ll see,
Grab the butterscotch chips,
These will be Grandpa’s offerings.”
Sounds made when the drawers
Opened and closed, vintage whisperings,
Now upon my ears,
Fingertips sliding across moments,
Years.
Window gifting the same view,
advice,
Coverings, crisp and clean
Perfect place, for
Snapping green beans,
Twice.
Time to move the sprinklers,
Grab a bucket, strawberries to tend,
Summers without her
Still painful, something I dread.

His One

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Lavender chosen, breathe in,
often found crushed,
scent of live petals,
lathered upon skin.
An original flower,
leaving one wistful,
for Old World pleasures,
and a relaxing grin.
Here, a pastel color,
for a mini mighty bloom,
a gift, an honor,
radiating in royal hues.
A favorite, whispered a man,
he, instantly in love with her,
pondering, deciding,
while love remained true.
Solely: with no other witness,
during a quiet afternoon view,
he claimed her for eternity,
she sighing, as his One and only.

Aerial

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tranquility nearly impossible
fearful wonders seeking respite
mountain quarry pieced
fitting perfectly, breathes
fluttering ethereal
flights of the past
blue sky reminders
micro version moments
wishing on a bird’s-eye view
forget windless
courage wears fate
design indigo
flint aerial

***
I’m home, unpacked and packing again for another adventure. I’ve visited numerous states (including Kentucky and North Carolina which were not part of my summer plans), but it feels good to be in Texas again. At least a little. I’ll be leaving in the morning for central Texas, Hill Country and the Frio River.

I need time to clear my head and find my voice again and the trip here always seems to help. The internet connections are limited, so you won’t see me posting or commenting.

See you in a week. Hope y’all are enjoying your summer. Go find love and give her a sweet pat on the ass for me. I love you.

Yours,
Audrey

Where SHE Needs HIM To Be…

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Asked, ” where does SHE need HIM to be?”
my poetry, as of late, offers questioning.
I don’t know, quite honestly,
I suspect, he knows,
innately.
believing when she is cared for,
love will feel like a drop of dew,
caught,
by a mountain view.
waking a heart from the start,
answering before the questions begin,
functioning on complete trust,
not yesterday’s sins.
HIM will know this heart of hers,
SHE his soulmate,
HIM, the one who understands,
the directions SHE will go, listens.
leading effortlessly, watching ,
with pride,
he already knows,
similar they are inside.
no effort required, mostly,
shouldn’t love be that easy?
HIM and SHE believe in connection
completely,
eternity born from fated opportunity.

***
For Shari, who asked me, “What about where SHE needs HIM to be?” I hope this is a sufficient answer. My first follower, now a dear friend, I adore you. I appreciate you watching over me. Thanks for offering a chance for me to ponder your question.

Choices (Haibun)

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Change of plans occur
Let’s go the wrong direction
Leading me to you

And then sometimes life happens and we take another direction.

Definitely not the path you or I would’ve chosen, had we been given the option, but life changing paths exist, as well, and we have to figure out how to survive them.

We can choose to accept fate, brave destiny with strength, or we can decide to hide and wish the dreadful path away.

It doesn’t change anything, I’ve realized. In my opinion, hiding and wishing something away never looked good on anyone.

Most importantly, not on me, so here I sit. Staring into destiny. Pay no mind to the tears in my eyes. Chose to be brave with me today, please.

On we go…

Whisperings

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My mind, what will I do?
He’s all I think about,
And nothing I had planned.
He’s water glossing over my skin,
And the comfort of the wind.
The smell of summer,
Yet, cool mountain air.
Allow him my heart,
I sigh, do I even dare?
He’s the sound of bullfrogs,
Late at night, while I dream.
Perfect words and lovely pitch,
And he whispers just for me.