#figurine
The wind-up figurine
Plays a chimy and peppy lullaby
Of Irish tune.
It makes me think of your smiles,
The trips to the store for waffles and Klondike bars,
How you were there for activities such as my basketball games when I was little,
My Confirmation in my teens,
My First Communion,
So many of my childhood birthdays were celebrated at your home
On Keywest Drive.
I think of the time, Pappy, that you scattered dollar coins around the backyard of the before-I-turned-eleven house
So I could test my National Geographic metal detector.
I remember talking with you, Granny, in the kitchens of your home and my parents’ current house
Asking me how I’ve been doing.
I even remember the times
Where I was rebuked by you because of my behavior.
I picture you guys standing in front of your house
Waving goodbye.
I took every moment for granted.
I just hope you aren’t too far away now
Because heaven knows I need you and your hugs and kisses.
You both are now super angels
And I miss you.
My childhood was fortified and I am reminded of your presence by you, Pappy, reading me Magic Tree House and saying so eloquently: “The wind started to blow, the treehouse started to spin. It spun faster and faster and faster, until everything was still. Absolutely still.”
As the figurine’s tune slows to a stop,
I stare into space imagining and recalling the feeling of you in my life.
I love you Granny and Pappy.
Aug 15, 2024
Aug 15, 2024 at 9:14 PM UTC
She was a porcelain figurine.
Fitted with big bright angel wings.
The arches of her heel lifted high.
The weight of emotions carried tall upon her back.
In mid flight she collapsed and broke a piece of her side.
Heart broken she feared that no one would look at her the same.
Once held high, looked to, to spread a ease of mind.
The burden of others piled high upon her back.
Not once did she notice the weight of her own.
Heartbroken she tried her best to hide her ceramic scar.
Afraid of what everyone would think.
A stone tear suddenly etched beneath her eye.
She tried her best to put the pieces back together, but no matter how she arranged them they just wouldn't fit.
Her wings now a dull off white, Her arch not as high as it once was.
She hid herself where no one would ever think to look.
Over by the street in the gutter where most leaves collected themselves.
It wasn't until she met a sad clown wearing torn clothes.
A dusty old hat. Sitting along the sidewalk of where she hid herself.
A blue tear painted on his upper cheek.
Soon as he saw the porcelain figurine he fell in love.
Collecting her broken pieces along with her hand. He loved her just the way she was.
The definition of her tear changed. Never before has she experienced such kindness from hands that asked for nothing in return.
Knowing only to give never once did she take the time to receive.
She looked astonished as he brushed the dirt from her wings.
Discarding her broken pieces in his pocket, replacing them with a piece of him
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
she lay in darkness
listening to some sad song
some careless young heart with a version
of some sweet old melody
she lay wrapped in my arms
lay wrapped in her wandering thoughts
i bring her herbal teas and a ashtray
but the grey ash already litters our perfect world
like stains of regret on a untainted heart
she leaves the towel on the tiles
along with her delicate footprints
leading to the window where she lingered
brushing her long straight burgundy hair
brushed a hundred times carefully
a hundred moments drinking her with my eyes
but to her she was
alone in the mirror of her eyes
alone in the rain of her dream
she made eggs and toast
left it neatly adorned on the
table overlooking tomorrow
picture perfections of lives she promises
one day we will someday live
when shes no longer afraid of her yesterdays
one day when her voice will no longer echo
all the fears and sadness
one day when the delicate footprints
lead to sunshine
instead of further into the darkness
into the brilliant sadness of night
she carved a driftwood boat
and set to sail upon the still waters
of her dreams
set into its lovingly crafted world
was a neat photograph of her alone in the rain
with footprints beating a trail back to my safer bathroom
but i'm not home anymore
i'm no-ones home anymore
i'm just a figurine gathering dust
an echo of her dreams
she will wake
to find me gone
she will just lay in silk sheets
and dream away the yesterdays
to the sounds of some careless young hearts song
set to a timeless melody
like a stolen kiss forgotten
like a smile unanswered
soft and filled with tears
wishing
wishing
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC