— He was
always thoughtful and affectionate toward her,
and so she was a sweetheart to
him. —
IN LOVE WITH YOU
I am falling in
love with you,
but I can’t say
a word.
You don’t care
for love.
It has bruised
you, broken you, burned you.
You call it a
curse. Yet I fear I am captive of this enemy, love.
You warn of its
destructive power.
Oh, but it warms
me like none other! It engulfs me in caressing flames, and foolishly I crave
more. I can’t bear to suffer the cold, so I let you feed the fire unwittingly.
I am falling in
love with you.
I am in love
with you,
and it’s getting
worse.
____________________________________________________________
To LOATHE
— He was a volcano that spewed only ashes and destruction,
and they despised
him for that lying tongue.—
HOW I FELT
I’ve longed to tell
you, darling, how I felt
Throughout the many
years we spent as one.
Five thousand days
in tented homes we dwelt,
Two thousand more
were spent under the sun.
O’er rugged trails and
through red pines we hiked.
Beneath the
watchful stars we made our bed.
You picked for me
the blue-eyed grass you liked,
To weave a tangled
crown upon my head.
A great deluge of
days spent on the lake
Concluded with fish
shriveled o’er the fire.
On moonless nights,
advantage you would take
Of evening swims in
birthday-suit attire.
For years our home
was nature’s habitat.
How sad you never
knew I hated that.
____________________________________________________________
— How sweetly delirious is the tinkling and trilling of mirth
that draws
to its sound the friendliest hearts. —
LAUGHTER’S
FATE
Where does our
laughter travel to?
Does it search
out monkeys in the zoo?
Or settle on the
heart like dew?
Or cling to lip-glossed
smiles on me and you?
Does it hang
around throughout the day?
Or spread its
wings and fly away?
Or gather-in
like puffy clouds of gray?
Perhaps it hooks
a rainbow’s end
And melts to
make the colors blend.
Or paints a
happy face upon a friend.
Does it turn to
stardust when it’s late?
Or in a
windstorm, circulate?
Or does it
simply fade and dissipate?
What is our
laughter’s merrymaking fate?
____________________________________________________________
— The weight of my grief in the depth of sorrows rivals
the bliss of our
love at the height of past joys. —
THE
SOFTNESS
There is a
softness in my breast. Deep beneath the skin.
There is a
softness that stirs at the stories you tell.
A hardship you
confess.
An abuse.
A fear.
My cheeks swell
up as the softness melts to liquid.
It rises and
pools until a portion spills from my eyes.
A confrontation
you confess.
A battle.
A risk.
I hold my breath
as the softness turns to tissue paper.
A portion of it
is torn to shreds.
An influence you
confess.
An angel.
An ally.
My heart starts
as the softness turns to hope.
It forms a
prayer, and a portion of it wafts from my lips.
An escape you
confess.
A sanctuary.
A law.
The softness
that remains congeals like gelatin, sensitive but secure.
I am relieved.
There is a
softness in my breast. Deep beneath the skin.
There is a
softness that stirs at the stories you tell.
FLEETING NATURE OF
Grief
Heavy, Harsh
Aching, Agonizing, Afflicting
Worry, Work, Rest, Relief
Calming, Comforting, Curing
Silent, Soft
Peace
____________________________________________________________
— Rewards live at the far edge of honest sweat, heavy toil,
and dogged
determination. —
ON WORE THE DAYS
On wore the days.
Sunlight, hot and taxing,
Never easing a scorching ray.
To prove and strengthen,
On and on wore the days.
Serpentine trails
Rotate hill after hill
As the vigorous sun beats down.
To feel and endure,
On and on wore the days.
Under high watch,
Progress surveyed and logged.
Footprints pounded into the sand.
To want and humble,
On and on and on wore the days.
____________________________________________________________
— I pondered the day away at the changing shapes of
passing clouds, lazing
in the shade of palm trees. —
UNDER THE WILLOW
TREE
Sit down
Under the weeping willow
Where the grass is a welcoming
cushion.
Lean back
Against its heavy tree trunk
Where the wood stem is a sturdy
backrest.
Relax
Behind its drooping branches
Where the vines are a concealing
curtain.
Drift off
Amid an afternoon breeze
Where the winds are nature’s
lulling whispers.
____________________________________________________________
— There are more books than can be read,
more friends than can be made, more laughs than
can be chortled, and no time to waste. —
TO
LIVE ONE’S LIFE
I’ve found that
the best way to live one’s life
Is above the fog
of negative thought,
With gossiping
lips outside of earshot,
Keeping harsh
criticism far less rife.
I’ve found that
the best way to avoid strife
Is by sharing
with others who have not,
Seeing the good,
speaking kindness a lot,
Burying hatchets
as well as sharp knives.
Every
compassionate deed we have sown
Lifts a heavy
burden from a brother.
Each positive thought
and comment we own
Extends joy and
love to one another.
Life was not
meant to be traveled alone.
It is where we
learn we need each other.
MY FRIENDS
My life is enhanced
By kind and supportive friends
Whom I trust and love.
____________________________________________________________
Copyright 2023 Richelle E. Goodrich
