Grandmother

This poem is dedicated to my friend
on the edge:

I gazed at my daughter in amazement,
holding her newborn daughter in her arms;
cuddling her while providing nourishment,
instinctively protecting her from harm.

I gazed at my daughter smiling brightly,
motherhood certainly agreed with her;
lips brushed her little one’s cheek so slightly,
the contented sound was like a cat’s purr.

The beauty of the moment was captured,
imprinted in my heart forevermore;
I never knew I could feel such rapture,
joyous feelings penetrated my core.

Watching my granddaughter sleeping soundly,
I softly placed a kiss on her forehead;
while covering her I whispered fondly,
I love you then I tucked her in her bed.

Practical Artist

Exuberance abounds from her radiant face,
as she dances and bounces around the work place.
Snip, snip harmonizes with exultant laughter,
the scissors click in time; she never once falters.

A practical artist sprinkling her magic,
whisking away all sadness and blues so tragic.
Converting an everyday gal into a queen,
Instilling confidence, she’s ready to be seen.

She sends her masterpieces out into the world,
hair is her canvas - short or long, thick, thin or curled.
She’s a practical artist painting hair with care,
encouraging new styles, convincing all to dare.

Africa

Happy 4th of July to all my American friends!

My favorite colors are red, white and blue,
while I am in Africa standing true,
to my country which is dearest to my heart,
even though I must be apart.

Life has so many twists and turns,
and through every experience I must learn,
that the roads are sometimes bumpy,
and rough roads surely leave me grumpy.

Africa, I mumble, why did you call me?
I am from the country of the free.
I love my country, my family, my home;
I don’t want to live abroad and feel alone.

We need you here rumbles the reply,
as I continue to formulate the whys;
stand tall, my dear American, so all
can meet and see and call you their friend.

Defeating Doldrums

My room is adorned with daffodils;
they are better than modern pills.
Their cheerfulness snuffs away the blues,
curing all ailments including flu.

Upbeat music brushes aside gloom,
as popular songs float through the room.
Tapping my foot I begin to dance;
down in the dumps never has a chance.

Smiling faces beam from silver frames;
the warm feeling bursts into a flame.
Boredom goes up in a puff of smoke,
remembering their laughter to jokes.

The familiar ringing of the phone;
tells loneliness it will not condone,
its infliction of pain to my heart,
and tells me that we will never part.

Golden Years

I laugh at my golden years,
struggling to get in gear,
losing all races with snails,
breathless and looking so pale.

Worst than slowing down so much,
is the final knock out punch.
Ronald Reagan here I come,
forgetting and feeling dumb.

What has happened to my mind?
Losing it is so unkind.
Remember what? I forgot.
Another flash makes me hot.

Golden years is such a joke,
seems it’s a humorous poke,
at old folks reaching life’s peak,
laughing as brittle bones creak.

Bird of Paradise

You are a fine bird, caws the crow,
from you brightly colored plumes grow.
I am but a simple back bird,
fancy caws I have never heard.

Let’s fly together this great day;
I have something I’d like to say.
We are relatives, do you know?
What do you mean that it is not so?

I watched you fly away from me,
perched on a branch in agony.
You were adorned, and I was plain;
you missed your chance to gain.

How can you throw away friendships?
I treasure my relationships.
One day your colored plumes will dull,
when plain, you will have time to mull.

Then you will see, we’re related,
unfortunately, belated.
Alone you will be on your perch,
staring at our flock on the birch.

Always in my Heart

You are always in my heart,
even though we are apart;
removed, but not forgotten,
sweet thoughts magnified by ten.

Distance does not dim my mind,
visions are easy to find,
of special times joining us,
laughing and making a fuss.

Somehow our two hearts are linked,
fur lined with the finest mink;
you’re with me from sun’s first light,
until my eyes close at night.

Shadows dance across your face,
in photos on the bookcase;
I hear you whisper to me,
as the wind blows through the tree.

You are always in my heart,
far lands can’t keep us apart;
in my dreams and in my soul,
singing your name as bells toll.