COAL
DUST
There
are times when death rushes by silently,
Unnoticed;
but
there are times when we invite them deliberately,
for
one who has sought this meeting it could be a
fatal encounter.
There
are those who wear no masks
who
they are and what they are doing may depend
on the dark of night
or from the light of
day,
for
there is no time when evil sleeps, soon to be
there
at all times, even the dead can still be dead
There
is a feeling as if time has been suspended
that
the past and future exist as one – for there is one
from
long ago who has returned to live again – he is
destined to live and sow the seeds
of terror
in
the dark hours of the night.
We
have mourned and wept for those who have passed on
our tears have dried, but our hearts
are scarred indelibly;
life
continues, although
our
memories stir to refreshen the wound.
We
are therefore vulnerable to the sudden shock.
It
will soon be dawn, soon faint waves of light
will appear on the horizon,
dispelling the darkness;
and
families know of what is happening in the darkness,
what it is to find a moment of
light, only to be
plunged into darkness again.
For
those who seem to be their friends have
hypnotized
them and the moment of truth that could be
salvation
has
been denied them.
RUMBLING DOWN
Rumbling
down
scream of agony and pain,
the
mountain is failing down.
What
of the creatures who
make their home inside the
beautiful
Appalachian?
Is
more oil more precious
than ruining the Appalachian
Mountains?
Is
it worth the raping and scaring of the land?
Was it legal to ask home owners
To
sell mineral rights?
Drinking
water contaminated,
mudslides galore
and
poverty continues to grow
Ground
is ruined and grows
strange veggies
the
air stinks of smoke and slug ponds
that has nowhere to go
Schools
in the way of mud
homes that crack and turn black
and
only the citizens are left behind.
SILENT MEMORIES
A great storm rages
all elements
of nature seem to be at war
clashing …
the storm has broken and
it will soon be dawn;
faint rays
of light will appear on the horizon
dispelling the darkness,
a moment of light,
only to be plunged into darkness again,
into the
sanctuary of the past
the moment of truth, that could be salvation, is gone
forever
and even the landscape has changed.
Quiet afternoons are timeless,
moments
when the past intermingles
with the
present,
thoughts move about unseen;
the quiet
nights are longer,
deep
within the dark as
opposing forces collide.
Times when death rushes by silently, unnoticed;
but there
are times we invite those memories deliberately.
For one who has sought these memories
it can be a fatal encounter.
DARK DRAGON
The dark dragon has me again,
clasped tightly in his steely claws.
Why does he invade my life at this festive time of year,
dragging me down to the depths of hell
where my life passes before my eyes
in a neverending stream of sorrow?
I've known the good and joyous
and my heart beats daily for my cherished loves.
I know my life is rich and blessed
and there is so much more to come,
but the dragon has other plans
and although he only owns a tiny piece of my soul,
this tiny piece can grab and hold
with determination and perseverance.
I try to be strong,
but I'm oh so weak,
so I end up in the mire,
wallowing in self-pity,
too may locked doors to escape.
I want to be free to smell the clean air
and absorb the love of my family,
but the dragon's thick hide has been transferred to me
as I sink ever deep to the pit below.
UNEXPECTED
I
picked up the phone today to call my Momma,
before
I realized she was no longer with us.
Why
do I do things like this?
Why
do I hear the wind chimes and
feel
like my Momma or sister are right outside the door?
Grief
and despair are sliding in again
like
the sludge of mud rolling down
the
scalped mountains of Appalachia.
Will
this pain never end? Or am
I
left with these holes in my heart
never
to be healed again? I know
time
is supposed to heal all wounds,
but
these wounds still gape and weep.
Occasionally,
a ray of sunshine and optimism
will
enter, blowing cool hope and
wetting
my mouth like an orange creamsicle.
Then
like the tinkle of the wind chimes
or
the rippling of a cool forest stream,
the
feelings slowly ooze away, only
leaving
hints of an unexpected return.
SHROUD OF
DARKNESS
Darkness
hangs like a shroud,
sooner or later we'll be together
again.
Our
love is all we need.
All
is silent, ominously silent,
violence will continue,
an
event setting off a chain of events.
A
blaze of flame at the top of the cliff,
begging, pleading - then burst into
flames;
he
is gone, never to return.
A
great storm rages over the heaven,
a rainless storm
for
vengeance has become an obsession;
and
he takes advantage of the opportunity for revenge,
by killing the girl his enemy loves;
turning
her into a grotesque skeleton of his lost love.
Darkness
hangs like a shroud,
as the stormy night draws closer to
dawn.
A
young man broods over a decision;
an era gone by,
the
threshold between past and future.
Torn
between the woman he once loved and the one he now loves.
Morning,
a morning that should be a happy one,
love that lasted through time,
haunting adventure,
mysterious and terrifying
stands
in majestic isolation.
Under
the brightness of a full moon,
but no one knows that under this
full moon
means
something it has never meant before.
It
is the sign of a new and evil power
that prowls the woods in search of a
victim.
First
night with strange and weird discoveries -
faint voices from the past
over an ancient phone with on wire
connections.
There
is a storm raging, a storm that can't block out
the wails of the past, the wails
legends say
come
when there is someone to die, the wails of the dead.
Darkness
envelopes the world tonight for an incantation has been performed to rid the house of strange spirits roaming
the halls -
there
is danger in this night -
a
mysterious voice from beyond the grave and a new terror
will
take over the feelings of the frightened family.
The
great halls echo, with the rumble of thunder illuminated
by light flashes of the angry storm,
as two angry
spirits battle in conflict - spirits
long since dead,
as
the rain finally starts to fall.
IT’S
FINALLY OVER
You caused so much heartache and pain,
you ripped my family apart.
Your lies and manipulation
were things we never understood.
You could never be trusted
or depended on
you really were no man,
but when you pulled her into your life,
nothing was ever the same again.
From booze to drugs to all the things you stole,
you dragged her down into your world,
into that angry pit of deception.
There was a time I prayed for your death
when the drunken crash almost took you away,
but she nursed you back to health,
thou you were never again quiet whole.
She was finally able to escape and turn her life around,
but the hand of fate had other plans,
and the grief remains today.
Not even a prison term
could change your shoddy character,
and you emerged just the same,
not worse, but no hell of a lot better.
I tired very hard to avoid your presence,
but whenever I'd least expect it,
there you were in my face
triggering the volatile emotions
I couldn't wrap my head around.
But now you've taken the coward's way out,
thrown away the life she gave you back,
and I wish I could feel compassion for you -
I am sorry your family must suffer and
I am sorry your momma had to find you -
but now I don't have to worry anymore
about the affect you have had on my family.
I know she may be feeling sadness,
as she looks down from above,
but she'll never see you again
because if there is a God up in Heaven,
then your elevator went down.
You caused so much heartache and pain,
you ripped my family apart.
Your lies and manipulation
were things we never understood.
You could never be trusted
or depended on
you really were no man,
but when you pulled her into your life,
nothing was ever the same again.
From booze to drugs to all the things you stole,
you dragged her down into your world,
into that angry pit of deception.
There was a time I prayed for your death
when the drunken crash almost took you away,
but she nursed you back to health,
thou you were never again quiet whole.
She was finally able to escape and turn her life around,
but the hand of fate had other plans,
and the grief remains today.
Not even a prison term
could change your shoddy character,
and you emerged just the same,
not worse, but no hell of a lot better.
I tired very hard to avoid your presence,
but whenever I'd least expect it,
there you were in my face
triggering the volatile emotions
I couldn't wrap my head around.
But now you've taken the coward's way out,
thrown away the life she gave you back,
and I wish I could feel compassion for you -
I am sorry your family must suffer and
I am sorry your momma had to find you -
but now I don't have to worry anymore
about the affect you have had on my family.
I know she may be feeling sadness,
as she looks down from above,
but she'll never see you again
because if there is a God up in Heaven,
then your elevator went down.
FIRE FLIES
Under
the lovely
full moon,
the
fire begins to glow …
blazing
up in crackling swirls.
The
embers seem to glow
and fly
around
the surrounding area.
Most
of the embers,
burn
themselves out,
but
one or two
slip into the sky to
fly
and
fly.
The
original “fire flies”,
good luck pieces
of
fire that,
when
past a certain time,
become alive
and
seek out
a
true soul
who needs occasional
magical
help.
SHADOWS OF REQUIEM
Tension seems endless,
torn with concern,
steep and winding,
and it twists and turns
like hidden secrets from the past.
Early morning memories are like mist,
raising vague memories of a forgotten dream.
Mysteries echo and reach out,
mysteries of a past unturned;
on the surface calm and serene,
but heavy with undercurrents
a web of confusion draws the anxiety deeper into the core
like a raised specter of yesteryear,
intruding on the future.
Unreasonable hatred can unlock
the dark corridors and musty corners,
turning the tension into a symbol of strength
to unlock the secrets of the future.
Care and Feeding of a Nightmare
dark and twisted
mixed up and down
fear of falling
black and white
loss of teeth
knife to throat
running, running, running
never fast enough
visions of past become entwined
no smells, no taste, no touch
but sights and sounds acute
worries blend and weave a path
into a hell of our own making
when morning comes
only shadows remain
tiny bits of illumination
washed away with the passing day
only rearing again at night
gruesome ghouls, flesh eating zombies
true blood drinking vampires
nightmares feed on thoughts that dwell
in the deep subconscious mind
poking and prodding the vulnerable point
like a picture show in dreams
and dreams may start with fluffy bunnies
or other cute little totems
but soon they grow and mutate on
vast unimaginable sights
anxiety and strife can nurture and care
morphing the nightmares full bloom
I Dream of My Past
I
didn’t grow up in the country, but I also didn’t grow up in a big city. My cozy hometown of Harrodsburg is basically
a tourist town – the oldest settlement in Kentucky
My
father is the son of a farmer, the baby from a brood of eight; although there
were actually two babies because daddy has a twin sister; in total five girls
and three boys. I can remember my
grandparent’s farm down in Bohon, a tiny subsection of Mercer County
The
barns were one of my favorite attractions on the farm because there were so
many things to see. There was hay to
make nice cozy beds for catching a cat nap, stalls, doors and windows and all
kinds of gadgets and gizmos, but I think the real appeal was being able to
climb up into the rafters. Inching up
into the hayloft by way of the rickety ladder and then shimming up a support
post by notching bare toes in wooden knots, I would walk across the rafters
with arms stretched out wide, pretending to be an acrobat on a high wire. You can bet, I got my fair share of spankings
and scoldings because of my antics in the barn, but at the time it was worth it
to feel as one with the farm.
Granny
was like most country farmwives and she kept a huge garden and canned and
preserved food all during the growing season.
Although I loved all the outbuildings on the farm, the root cellar was
one place I was a little afraid of. Not
only was it dark down under the ground, but the cold, musty air gave me an
uncomfortable feeling and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There was a light hanging from the ceiling,
but you had to be all the way to the bottom of the steps to be able to pull the
cotton string.
Bathed
in the light from the single, bare light bulb, the fruits of Granny’s labor lay
before you. Jar after glistening jar of
green beans, corn, tomatoes and tomato juice, hominy, dill pickles, beet
pickles and bread and butter pickles, all sat waiting for winter consumption. Jellies, jams and preserves from blackberries,
raspberries, and gooseberries and apples, pears and persimmons, all sweetened
with Granny’s touch. Potatoes were
gently layered in shallow wooden crates and covered with old newspaper for a
long winter’s nap. Apples and pears were
wrapped in butcher paper which would turn their skins translucent and super
sweet by mid-winter. Onion and garlic
braids would hang from hooks, as well as herbs like sage, thyme and dill. Every nook and cranny of Granny’s root cellar
would be stocked with essentials for the family to eat throughout the coming
cold months.
The
smoke house was another outbuilding on the farm I enjoyed. It was typically empty in the spring and
early summer, but the smell of seasons and seasons ham and bacon hung heavily
in the air. The rich heavenly aroma of
smoky meat not only penetrated the wood of the smoke house, but it penetrated
the senses and sent you on a tumbling foray down memory lane. I don’t actually remember my grandparents
curing meats in the smoke house, but the lingering smell gave no doubt to what
this building was used for.
The
outbuildings on the farm were only props for my overly active imagination. One of my greatest daydreams was of being a
horse owner, and my grandparent’s farm made the perfect backdrop for my
fantasies. In my head, I had a stable
full of pretty, prancing ponies, most of them emulating horses from my favorite
television series, Fury. I thought Fury was the best horse in the
world, and I wanted one just like him.
While Granny’s flowerbeds were my horse corrals, the smoke house was my
stable and the front yard was my race course.
I
raced around the farm holding tightly to Fury’s reins and digging my knees into
his pretend sides to make him gallop faster.
In actuality I was astride a well worn tobacco stick, clutching the top
of the stick for the reins and trailing the bottom of the stick behind me. Round and around the house we would go,
circling the huge oak tree in the front yard, flying past the persimmon tree
and galloping along the peony ridge. Occasionally,
I would use a jump rope tied to my stick as a rein or bridal, but this was not
a necessity for my eager muse to work
Often
times, I pretended to be crippled and would use two tobacco sticks to hobble
around from one area of the farm to another.
I liked to think I was famous for being an excellent horseback rider,
even though I couldn’t walk without crutches.
I have no idea where this fantasy came from, but on my grandparent’s
farm, no daydreams were off limits. I
was always swooping in and saving the day at the last minute. I was the answer to everyone’s prayers – at
least in my imagination.
Back
before there was thought about world-wide recycling, my grandparents burned all
their garbage. I used to enjoy standing
beside Granny or Granddaddy as they would poke the embers in an old rusty
barrel. Paper boxes, milk cartons, tin
cans and all other kitchen waste that couldn’t be composted was put in the
barrel and set on fire. As an adult, I
have a fear of fire, but as I child I enjoyed watching the hungry flames
devouring all the goodies with nothing else on its mind but total consumption.
Kitchen
and garden waste was recycled in the form of a compost heap near the
garden. Granny kept an old galvanized
bucket on her kitchen cabinet and every vegetable peel, fruit seed, egg shell,
coffee ground or left over food scrap – with the exception of meat – was placed
in the bucket and eventually emptied into the kitchen compost heap. Granny’s vegetables and flowers always grew
huge and beautiful and I think it is partly due to the fact she tended her
plants well and smothered them in compost.
Granddaddy loved to hunt and fish and he kept
the farm deep freeze full of tasty meats.
There were also hogs to slaughter in the fall for crispy bacon and tangy
sausage. Chickens were an occasional
meat treat, but most of the laying hens were just used for egg.
How
have we come so far from the family farm?
Sadly, many children today think all their food comes from a grocery
store. They don’t know vegetables grow
in the dirt or chicken lay eggs or cows produce milk. Even a half century ago, most families were
self-sufficient like my grandparents, so were did it all go wrong?
I
long for the slower days of my past, the sparkling memories of my
childhood. I want to recapture a life my
grandparents knew so well, to provide for my family with the fruits of my
labor. I crave a simpler pace, a slower
time, a glance back full of cherished hopes, appreciated work and nurtured dreams. I dream of my past.
BANDANA
QUILT
Bandana quilts are quick and easy to make, even for
the beginning sewer or quilter, and make wonderful gifts for birthdays or
Christmas.
Items needed include:
·
12 bandanas of equal size – pick out the
color or design you want, mixing and matching to make a beautiful quilt.
·
One twin size flat sheet in a color to
coordinate with the bandanas
·
One bag twin size, low loft batting
·
Colored embroidery floss or cotton yarn
to “tack” quilt
·
Thread for sewing
·
Sewing machine
Arrange the bandanas into a design you like; there
are three bandanas to a row and four rows total. With right sides together, sew the bandanas
into strips and then sew the strips together.
Iron all the seams open.
To make the quilt:
lay bandana quilt top onto a flat surface, right side up. Cover with the twin size sheet, right sides
together. Place the batting on top of
the sheet, sandwiching the sheet between the bandanas and the batting. Pin around the edges to hold all layers
together. Sew through all three layers,
leaving an opening for turning the quilt.
After sewing, turn the quilt inside out – the right
side of the bandana and the sheet will now be on the inside with the batting
sandwiched in between. Hand-stitch the
opening to close the quilt. With the
embroidery floss or cotton yarn, tack the quilt at certain points along the
quilt. Tacking is simply taking a
stitch, cutting the thread and tying a knot to hold the material together. Bandanas make this easy because most will
have natural places to tack the quilt.
Voila! Now you have a beautiful, soft quilt for use
on a cold night. These quilts are so
easy to make, you can do several for gift giving and keep several for
yourself. With some online websites, you
can find many assortments of bandanas in different designs and colors.
To make a full to queen size quilt, increase the
bandanas to four across and five down for a total of 20 bandanas. Increase to full or queen size sheet and low
loft batting.
LET’S
KEEP ROLLING
By
Bobbi Rightmyer
Friday
and Saturday nights were always roller skating night in Harrodsburg during the
1970s. The Mercer Roller Rink was
located in the rectangular building right inside the fair grounds, which is
currently used for the Mercer County Fair Floral Hall. The door way would always be clogged with
kids coming and going, waiting to pay the entrance fee, or getting a hand stamp
to be able to reenter the building.
Once
inside the door, the entryway opened into a large room that was the roller rink
proper and the sitting area. On the left
side of the sitting area, plain folding chairs were lined in rows two deep,
turned to face the rink. Coat racks were
along the south facing wall, and the bathrooms were behind the chairs. On the right side of the sitting area,
benches lined the partition between the skating areas. The ticket booth opened into a concession
stand on this side of the building.
Pepsi, potato chips, and candy bars were a few of the refreshments
available to satisfy cravings during a long night of skating. The Pepsis came in glass bottles and there
was a bottle stand located down the center of the concession stand. The floor of the skating rink was concrete,
so you can imagine the number of broken bottles that accumulated over the
weekend.
As
I mentioned, the floor was concrete and this included the skating area
itself. Not only was it concrete, but
there was a huge crack in the floor that ran north to south on the lower
portion of the rink. This crack had been
filled in, but it left a little hump that you could feel through your legs as
you skated over it. Everyone grew up
learning to adjust their skating style to accommodate the hump in the floor.
Records
played all night: the Jackson Five, the
Osmond Brothers, Chicago
I
can remember my daddy taking me skating at the Mercer Rink when I was very
young. He started out working at Corning
Glass Works when he and mom went to housekeeping, so every summer we would go
to the Corning
As
my skating ability improved, we started going to the roller rink more
often. After I got my first pair of
skates, I was able to practice at home.
I think I was eleven the year I got my skates for Christmas; I couldn’t wait
to go skating with them. That first
night skating, I used some of my Christmas money to buy green pom-poms for my
skates. I thought I was hot stuff. Within a few weeks, I would have five
different color pom-poms on each skate.
I kept my skates clean and polished, and I would oil them regularly,
especially after skating in our basement.
I learned to skate in circles by using a support pole in our basement,
holding on with one hand and skating myself in circles. I had many crashes because of dizziness, but
I eventually mastered the skills enough not to make a fool out of myself in
front of my friend.
When
I started dating, my trips to the skating rink started to decrease. My boyfriend didn’t know how to skate, and he
didn’t want to lean. He had no desire to
spend the weekend skating and listening to music, and he would get jealous if I
went without him. So to please him, I
backed off from skating until I was no longer going. I don’t remember when I eventually stopped
going, but I had not been for a while when the Mercer Roller Rink closed its’
doors for good.
All
three of my children like to skate, but most modern roller rinks have wooden
floors. I have tried to become adjusted
to wooden floors, but I missed that old cracked concrete floor at the Mercer
Roller Rink. The wooden floor makes me
fill like I’m running over hundreds of cracks in the floor, instead of one big
crack. Hindsight being 20-20, I wish I
had taken advantage of the last few weeks the roller rink was open to store up
memories of the place. Instead, I keep
the memories I have locked up in my heart and I occasionally let them out to
tell my children about the fun I used to have.
WHAT CAN WE SAY?
We learned
about love from you, Momma,
by watching your caring ways.
by watching your caring ways.
You let us know
your endless love
in so many different ways.
in so many different ways.
We learned all
we know about living
because you always gave life your all.
because you always gave life your all.
Your unfailing
love was without limit,
as was your ability to soothe our hurts.
as was your ability to soothe our hurts.
We learned
about joy from you
in many fun-filled yesterdays.
in many fun-filled yesterdays.
You made us
feel important
with endless encouragement and praise.
with endless encouragement and praise.
From you we
learned forgiveness,
of faults both big and small.
of faults both big and small.
With open arms
and open heart,
you were
gentle and yet so strong.
From you we learned to comfort and care,
but your
lessons stopped not with family.
You loved your
patients and loved your friends
and never said
"No" to any calls for help.
Momma, we look
at you and see a walking miracle;
you were our
teacher and our comforter,
our
cheerleader and our rock.
Your unselfishness
kept us anchored,
every hour of every day.
every hour of every day.
You were
dependable and full of comfort,
our cushion
when we'd fall.
You helped in times of trouble,
though we
sometimes caused you pain;
it mattered
not what we did,
you supported
us all the same.
How did you
find the energy, Momma,
to do all the things you did;
to be teacher, nurse and counselor,
and full of inexhaustible love?
to do all the things you did;
to be teacher, nurse and counselor,
and full of inexhaustible love?
Nobody's quite
like you, Momma;
you were special in every way.
You cheered us up, you filled our cups
with tenderness, come what may.
you were special in every way.
You cheered us up, you filled our cups
with tenderness, come what may.
Nobody loved
us more than you,
no matter what we did;
good or bad, happy or sad,
you were full of unconditional love.
no matter what we did;
good or bad, happy or sad,
you were full of unconditional love.
Nobody's equal
to you, Momma,
you truly blessed our lives.
We love you so and want you to know,
you were the absolute best.
you truly blessed our lives.
We love you so and want you to know,
you were the absolute best.
We know we
were all in your thoughts,
your love
followed us everyday.
Thank you for
all you've done
and given so generously.
and given so generously.
We love you,
our wonderful Momma,
you will be
our blessing from above.
You set us
free and steered us straight.
We'll miss you come what may.
The examples
you have shown us
and the
lessons we have learned
will remain in
all our hearts
until we see
you again one day.
GOD'S FACE
We see God’s face today,
peaking from behind the clouds,
golden rays of happiness beams,
glittering to the ground.
We watch in awe
from our earthly bounds,
as the sunshine washes our faces,
and dream of a time
when he will take us home
to his palace far away.
peaking from behind the clouds,
golden rays of happiness beams,
glittering to the ground.
We watch in awe
from our earthly bounds,
as the sunshine washes our faces,
and dream of a time
when he will take us home
to his palace far away.
CHOICES
Rainy
days Rocks
not jewel
Not
summer Reading
a book
Family night not night on the town not
watching TV
Yellow daisies not red roses Freshly mown grass not fancy perfume
Blowing
wind not standing still Moonlight
not sunshine
Winter,
fall and spring Not
summer
Kisses
not screams You
and me
not
me without you.
HOLY
GLOW OF PRAYERS
Sadness seeps into all the walls
Settling into creaks and crevices
Only to be freshly illuminated
By the holy glow of prayers
What wonder awaits us after death
Will we cease to exist
Or will heaven greet with open arms
To cuddle us close and deep
Sitting in the atmosphere
Of prophets young and old
Do you hear our whispered prayers
As the candles begin to glow
Sadness seeps into all the walls
Settling into creaks and crevices
Only to be freshly illuminated
By the holy glow of prayers
What wonder awaits us after death
Will we cease to exist
Or will heaven greet with open arms
To cuddle us close and deep
Sitting in the atmosphere
Of prophets young and old
Do you hear our whispered prayers
As the candles begin to glow
Our deepest sympathy
You Will Always Be Unique
|
You have always been a person who wasn’t afraid to
be yourself.
You are very honest and you don’t like when people
mistake your honesty as being a liar or an ass kisser; just kick ass and take
names later.
You are a great friend and you don’t believe relationships
should ruin friendships.
You want to sit back and laugh when karma punches you in the
face. And yes, you are quiet around
certain people, but they should see you with your friends.
Your life is a blank canvas and we are all anxious
to see how the painting of your life turns out. You have worked and studied hard all your
life, and you will do great things in this world. You may stay with us in the States, but
many years from now, I know you will be going across “the big water” – and
even though it scares me to death, I am excited because you will have the
potential and the desire.
Keep true to your roots and don’t change for
anyone. Never swim upstream just
because everyone else is swimming upstream and don’t jump off that bridge
just because they do. You are
unique. You are one of a kind. The mold was broken when you came along.
Happy
Birthday
|
|
LET US
ALL HAVE CAKE
Time to eat
It's breakfast time
"No, you can't have chocolate cake"
The whines, the cries, the very fake pouting
Will not change my mind
Oh, please be good
Or at least be quiet
I can't stand to see you unhappy
I stop and think
Will it matter in 10 years
"Okay, let us both have cake"
Time to eat
It's breakfast time
"No, you can't have chocolate cake"
The whines, the cries, the very fake pouting
Will not change my mind
Oh, please be good
Or at least be quiet
I can't stand to see you unhappy
I stop and think
Will it matter in 10 years
"Okay, let us both have cake"
Happy Birthday!
LAUGHTER IS NOT THE ONLY MEDICINE
The unconditional love of family and friends
My wonderful homemade chicken soup
Quiet evenings spent with my honey
A refreshing 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep
Man's best friend curled up at my feet
A lap full of purring cats
Knowing my children are healthy and happy
A mental health day watching episodes of Dark Shadows
Laying in the middle of the backyard enjoying nature's beauty
An apple a day, a spoonful of sugar and everything covered in chocolate
Hope you
get better soon!
