Poetry; How I’m Doing?

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Some Explaining to Do

Zipping along, writing without a clue . . . The words flew

A minor dental procedure was the first undo

Follow by pain in my hip, x-rays and a walker too

Then vertigo . . .boo-hoo . . . once the crystal where out

There was something else to do

Physical therapy not to walk like a drunk

Add to the stew . . . cataract surgery.

And . . . there’s still more explaining to do?

But I’m not feeling blue and please don’t you.

. . . just saying

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Poetry

(A friend confided her memory of a dance recital and wearing a red dress in detail. Regrettably, she had no childhood pictures of herself. I wrote this poem for her.)

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Little Girl Blues

A photograph will always be in my mind.

Not on a bureau, credenza, night stand or shelf.

There is no where to look.

Nothing to find.

It’s not in the foyer, on a desk, or anywhere else.

The treasure lies deep inside my mind.

A girl . . . in a magenta dress!

Dancing the flamingo.

Swirling . . . Twirling.

Her feet stomp the floor.

The red taffeta bodice clings to her chest.

The crinoline and chiffon flounce and cheer for more.

The white poka dots stand and applaud.

She smiles.

There is no where to look.

Nothing to find.

The treasure lies deep inside my heart and mind.

. . . just saying

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