I wait with bated breath to see
Sparks fly from the tip of a wand
I listen with eager ears to hear
An owl screech, its message is clear.

I tremble to feel
A dark caress
I fail to realize
This fantasy is not reality.

I have lived much of my life
Wrapped in the silky embrace of 
A book of enchantments...
happily losing myself within its pages.

My reality is not my desire
My desire is with his clever words
His hair, his eyes, his soul...
I drink deeply from the cup
Of magic and wait for his call.

My son

You and I share a bond of blood

We are family, we are made from each other

You are my son, my life, my happiness

Bound up in a body that owes itself to me.

You have my nose (I am sorry for that!)

We share our dimpled chin...

I look in your eyes and I see myself

A better version, bright and shiny new.

We share so much, I am overwhelmed

I love to drink in the beauty of your skin

Your crooked smile and big beaver teeth

So like me, but a thousandfold better.

Who knew I could feel this

I did not realize my life began with you

Before was just a dress rehearsal

The movie, the play, the book that is my life

Held in a hand clasped tightly in mine.

I am not a patient person. I do not like to wait. Its a downfall of mine. (one of many, I confess. Love of cheesecake, evil movie/TV men, thrift stores and jumbles and jumbles of cats, ect...) so I am having a hard time waiting for things in my life to happen.

I am starting a thrift store with my sister. Its something we are both passionate about and it will help us financially, as well as the cash strapped schools in our county. BUT, this is most likely 6 months away. Until then I toil away at a dead end job, where I am just not happy. Or at least I am not happy now that I know... or hope that life has something better in store for me.

I grew up poor, lived most of my life poor but lack the drive to get myself out of it. Hey, I think I have hit on another downfall. My lazy-un goal driven-coast along way of living my life. This opportunity is perfect for me, it will keep my interest and allow me to move closer to my family, my boys will have a better life (I hope) than I ever dreamt I could give them. Life is looking promising for the first time in a very long time.

Waiting... waiting... why does time only move fast when you are watching people be born, grow... or slowly pass away into eternity?

I have decided to work again on writing poetry. Not because I am good at it, or have some original thoughts. I need an outlet for my emotions, for things that I feel and want to say but do not have the guts to have it all laid out for the people who know me to see. Forgive me for the amateur attempts, just realize it is me trying to put the things I have trouble saying  in to words.

The not so mighty pen

I have the heart and soul of a poet...

But not the pen.

I see things of beauty, my eyes filled with tears...

But my treacherous pen, cannot transfer my feelings in to words.

I look upon a blue bird with ruffled feathers

I stare with wonder as I drink in his cheery chirp.

His chubby body poised for flight

If I should forget myself, and sigh too loud.

My eyes and ears see and feel the trees

Bending and swaying with the fluttering winds.

I hear the leaves rustling a soothing tune

I could fall asleep, and forget my petty cares in its melody.

I gaze at my Black Cat, lying in a sunny patch

I marvel at the myriad of colors that make up his toasty coat.

I want to bury my face in his tummy

And feel his purr and love envelop me.

I hear the smooth breathing of my sons

As I am laying in bed with them, listening...

I wonder how I ever lived without the sweet sounds

Of two people who fill my heart with an abundance of love.

Why does my pen not let me convey this?

Why do I have to speak in such common tones.

I wish that I could write so well and so strong

So that when I am old, I can relive it all again in my mind.