Archive for August, 2007

Where Did the Time Go?

In my youth, I never paid attention to time or the passing years. It was a commodity that I took for granted. I knew where to find it and how to stretch it. Now it owns me and runs through my fingers,.

I want a man who values time.

Who does what he says he will do.

Who delivers in spades. If  I could, I’d turn the back the hands of time.

I’d have made better choices about the men in my life and moved on when it was clear it was not working.

I would have realized that I can’t fix anyone, only point them in the right direction.

I would have realized when you love someone, really love them, a part of them resides in you always, even if they’ve hurt and deceived you.

I would have raised my children differently, given them more survival skills, realizing that someday I would not be here to fix things or kiss away a broken heart. I think I failed them by not pushing them harder, not letting them fail enough under my watch to have the confidence to turn things around while I was still in a position to help them. Sigh.

Wisdom is a wonderful gift, unfortunately, it usually is linked to the passage of time.

Make no mistake, I will use it wisely.

Life is precious, I make each day count.


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Life goes on

Life goes on ….

Two Septembers ago, I heard the fear in her voice.  We sat in her backyard drinking coffee with the chiminea aglow, her face mostly in shadows except for the tears trickling down her cheeks.

Her fear was not for herself, not for the days ahead when the beast would have its way with her, taking a breast was not enough, it would soon claim all of her.

She worried how he would get along without her, how he would handle the silence, shop for groceries, remember to keep doctor appointments etc. Her voice lowered to a whisper. She told me she did something very right all those years ago, she married a wonderful man. When she was diagnosed, he was there, telling her it was their battle.  When she was sick, he cared for her without her asking. When she cried, he held her and comforted her… and not once did she have to ask, he was always there for her.

She looked at me with eyes that pleaded for answers.

“When I am gone, who will care for him?  What if this happens to him, who will be there for him?”  She knew how essential his support had been in the early days, it was even more so now.

I wrapped a blanket around her and refilled her coffee as she looked up at the stars. A symphony of crickets filled the damp night air.

She turned to look at me, pointing to the heavens.  “Do you see that really bright star over those old oak trees?”

I nodded, holding back tears, selfishly wondering what I was going to do without her.

She continued, “Right there, right there is where I want him to look for me………..we’ve sat out here for 30 years and there’s always a bright star right over those trees.  Me and the Oaks, that’s where I’ll be.”


Her voice trailed off……perhaps she was wondering how far away she’d be.  “He needs to remarry, you know. He’s a good man, some woman will be happy with him……..perhaps Carla L would be a good fit for him?  You know, I can see them together; they’d probably live in her home.  Or maybe you should make sure he finds someone who loves to dance; I never liked it but he always loved dancing. You will need to keep your eye on him, to make sure he goes on.”

Three weeks later she slipped into a coma. He called me to sit with him.  When I arrived he was painting her toe nails, her pillow had recently been fluffed. He had her favorite candles burning and a photo of them on the nightstand.  He held her hand so tenderly and told me that even then, with her bald head and emaciated body, he looked at her and saw a gorgeous woman who loved him with all she had every day and every night. 

They used to glance at each other across a room and everyone recognized the look.  He looked at her the same way then.

She slipped quietly away the next day. 

Last night I attended his wedding – alone.  He looked at his new bride and I once again recognized the look of love. At the reception she told me his wife wrote a letter to the woman he would marry after she was gone.  She said it was the most touching, thoughtful letter, stained with her tears…… welcoming her into his life, the life she left behind.

She was quite a woman, that friend of mine.

I heard someone ask them if they’d be living in her house.  She said, “No, we will live in his house, it has the most magnificent view of the night sky, right over the old oaks.”

I knew what that meant, more importantly, I knew what that meant to him.

How sweet, how wonderful……..two people who truly love and understand each other.

We should all be so blessed………….he found it twice……….. I’m still searching for once…..perhaps someday.

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Inner Knowledge


As disconnected as we are
have been
and will be
I still find it amazing
that you recognize
my fingerprints in the ether
mixed amongst millions of others
and yet
the pieces of us are
scattered here and there
and after all these years
we can't seem to make it whole
despite the miles
the only things that I have
ever been really sure of
are that I tend to take the
known and scenic roads
while you prefer winding, crooked trails
and that I love you
and know you love me.

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I close my eyes and remember you

small details

picked up by the scrutinizing eye

of an artist

Had I the talent

I would have painted you

that afternoon in June

on a large fresh canvas

caught every small detail

the way the sky with her billowing clouds

wrapped around you

the sun picking up the highlights

of your salt and pepper hair

and casting shadows on your face

the freshly cut grass of the river bank

your pedestal

the reflection of the harbor

in the corner of your eyes

as they looked at me

with the undeniable

look of love


Had I the talent

I would have captured that moment

in oils

you in your black shirt

and wrinkled trousers

in the late afternoon as long shadows fell

and the gulls watched

but what my masterpiece would not show

is the woman with subtle crows feet

and paint on her hands

who remembers ever so vividly

the way your fingers tasted in my mouth

how your body fit mine

so perfectly

and how so many could-have-beens

never happened

no, the world will not read my scribblingS

nor will they know of my emptiness

they will not see my memories

that are locked away in my mind

the world will see my masterpiece

that small glimpse of the time

you let your fear of being hurt

fall away

and loved me the way every woman

deserves to be loved

Many have that for a lifetime

My masterpiece embodies a sliver of time

late on a summer afternoon


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                                                                    Beads of perspiration

trickle down my neck

silently sliding between

my breasts

another sultry August night


summer fades quickly

thunder rumbles

clouds obliterate the moon

as the last stars of summer

sink into the darkness


Like them

we were once fiery beings

consumed by the night

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Warming His Robe

I wear his robe
next to my own skin
warming it and me
taking the chill off the night air
as we sit talking
touching souls
between bits of conversation
and kisses

Long after I am gone
his robe will hold my scent
perhaps some cool evening
as he wraps it around himself
he will remember me.

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Spring Morning Walk

6 a.m.walking 

the air cool with thick misty fog

 as dawn broke

 I desperately searched

for early signs of spring

to signal the end of winter

the air scented by damp earth

but what I was really craving

 was even the faintest scent

of you

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