On Sharing Your Life Together

Feel the soft warm breeze that smells of sweet magnolias.

Touch the wet grass with your feet when they are bare.

Listen to the rhythm of the dancing rain as it pitter pats on your roof and on the pavement outside.

Share in life’s sweet senses.

 

When you are rushing to meet a deadline, notice on the way, the smell that reminds you of her.

Hear him laughing when he is miles away.

Remember in the afternoon, the expression that was on her face as she slept last night.

Share in life’s sweet memories.

 

Give Chris a hug on a day when you sense he needs it but will never ask for it.

Kiss Tiffany on a day when she tells you to leave her alone.

One day, for no reason at all, give him a gift.

On her birthday, because you remember it, give her a gift.

Share in life’s sweet affections.

Ode to the Cardiologist

This is a poem I wrote for my grandmother’s funeral, who died basically from heart failure.

When I was little,
I would
wait
on the curb in front of my house
for the bright red van
to turn the corner at the end
of the street,
anticipating the love that would accompany it.

It was a love that knew no
boundaries
and carried no burdens,
a love that was ready to fulfill
what yearns deepest in the hearts
of children.
It is a love that will penetrate
the children of my children’s
children and their children.

This is the heart of my grandmother.

Nose

It seems there’s a mountain
Blocking my view,
And all I can think of is eating some stew.
I can’t see very well,
But boy I can smell,
So eating is all that I do.

Monster Bus

The monster bus came for us.
I didn’t want to ride.
But Mama said I’d be okay,
And Mama’s never lied.
So I got on reluctantly
And sat down in the middle.
And the monster boy in front of me
Began to play his fiddle.