#patricia
What a special day I had today.
So special, and it was not even mine.
The sun was warming.
It was God's wind blowing.
And for once, we all were there,
and all our love was showing.
And the children
in the day,
they were laughing, having fun.
And everyone was smiling.
It was all I ever I wanted,
and it was not even mine.
My sister.
It was her day.
And yet the sun could almost die,
but for the radiant Patricia
could keep any heart alive.
Immaculate,
in white and lace.
Enchanting. Captivating.
The gods above did fall in love,
but she shall keep them waiting.
Her husband.
It was his day.
He thanked us just because,
we were who we were,
and he was who he was.
He was genuine in his embrace.
Sincere in his smile.
There beside my sister,
he seemed to strike a certain style.
I knew they would be happy.
This love will last forever.
I could feel it in my heart,
and it was not even mine.
I saw my mother.
She was smiling with a tear.
My father sighed and shook his head,
perhaps somewhere in yesteryear.
Here, witnessing the true event
of what pain and sacrifice are meant.
Knowing in some way she's leaving.
But, in marriage, true believing.
I wanted to laugh as well as cry,
and it was not even mine.
My sisters.
They all did contest.
Competing with the bride.
Resplendent.
They did look their best,
I still cannot decide,
if it was they that looked more beautiful
or more the day
and all the view.
And as I looked around at wide-eyed guests,
I knew that they did wonder, too.
My brothers.
All so strong and cool.
Among the guests,
so sure to fool.
Of four, three of us still *****
We swear those words will not be said!
We congratulate.
We poke and jibe.
And yet we keep the truth inside.
We stop and think about our day.
We dream.
We hope its something like today.
I dream and sigh,
and want today,
though it was not even mine.
As we gathered for the photograph
I began to see my flaw.
This day that I had wanted,
it was no ones day at all.
For days that are this beautiful,
and this loving, I have learned,
are only lent to us by God,
and soon must be returned.
But we can take from it our memories,
and our dreams and friendships, too.
Patricia and Mike will take each other,
and a love that lives anew.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
The water chuckles and frolics
Finding its way over the rocks
It gurgles around boulders
And swirls and tumbles and drops.
The banks of the streams are strewn
With flower petals, pink and rosy
They settle gently on fern fronds
Looking peaceful, comfy and cozy.
The steep sides of the gully are shale
And water seeps out in places
It finds its way into pools
Where the minnows are having races.
I know about oceans and lakes and rivers
About power dams and high waterfalls
I appreciate the importance of water
I love it from wherever it calls.
But my private stream in this gulley
Teeming, insected', berried and mossed
Seems akin to a forest primeval
Where the Hand of the Goddess just passed.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
I do so enjoy the fury of a storm
The relentless driving rain
Descending in sheets
Being blown into every
Crack and crevice
By a howling raging wind
Whipping first one way then another
Bending everything in its path to its will
I feel envy, too
How much I would like to
Release my pent up feelings
What a storm I could often create.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC