Haiku Saturday - I'm Not Always Late, But I Usually Am

I love Trader Joe's
An oasis of cool food
And also, cheap wine

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Sunny clementines
Just not enough to combat
Sadness and my SAD

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The green tree sparkles
Each ornament a story
A piece of our past

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This weird, weird weather
Like a Katy Perry song
Don't mean to like it

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Friends come and friends go
Someone leaves, someone returns
The key is balance

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Wonder what I'd say
If Christmas happened today
Would I welcome them?

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I'm so intrigued by
Four hundred years of silence
And then, the baby

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Merry Christmas!

Coming To Terms

I was shocked to find myself saying your name

after so many months

of not saying your name.

I even prefaced your name with

“my friend” when I know,

in fact,

that you aren’t my friend at all.

So after months of pointedly

not missing you

not thinking of you

not remembering you,

the loss of you

arrived unbidden and unexpected

and the loss of you

felt more real than almost any other loss

and the loss of you

hurt me but I didn’t cry

we don’t cry

remember,

how we don’t cry?

Remember how we

were like sisters and

how my kids called you Aunt

and the little one had a special way

of saying your name

and we loved you

I love you still

but the loss of you

is something I must bear

and invent and imagine all the reasons why

and guard against so that I never

have to bear this loss again.

Haiku Friday - Home Alone Edition

I dream of running
Running from something, some man
I wake up tired.

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In morning's quiet
I ask, I seek, I listen
And I hear Him speak.

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He paints a picture
Of a whole different life
Am I brave enough?

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The kids take over
My room is no longer mine
They are "camping out."

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Her sideways glances
And her upswept auburn hair
Make her beautiful

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Red peeks through the brown
I screwed up my hair color
Well, it is unique...

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Promises to keep
Hardest - the ones to myself
Integrity holds

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My best premise yet
Perhaps not fair to write it
But what if I'm right?

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Haiku Saturday

World-weary, tired
Guarded, defensive, all spent
But my hair looks good!

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Sometimes I wonder
Why I let you get to me
And sometimes I know

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He asks hard questions
My answers sound forced and wrong
And he stops digging

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My writing suffers
Inspiration shrivels
Where are my muses?

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