I was away for awhile because of life things that needed addressing, still need addressing. Yet tonight I am filled up with gratefulness for everything that is good in my life.
I have two kids who continue to amaze me despite the little stuff that is inevitable between mothers and teenagers, my parents are alive and mean the world to me as well as the rest of my family, Dad’s cancer hasn’t returned and it’s been two years, I live in a home that is full of love, imperfections, and forgiveness, I have a roof over my head, I have healing foods to eat, I love my work, I like my children’s friends–they are each beautiful in their own way, while my health is not what I’d like it to be, I am grateful for pain-free days, days that my lungs cooperate, days that I can just focus on enjoying “now” without being totally exhausted, and I am especially thankful for the people in my life who have never left me–who continue to love me through dark nights and sunlit days.
To all of you, I hope you feel love in this post and that you can show love to someone who needs it. Love truly is the one constant that makes life worthwhile. It doesn’t have to be eros, even though romantic love can be an incredible journey. It could be the love of a best friend or a parent or a child who looks at you with love in their eyes. If we focus on love, gratitude is inevitable. Have a great day, friends.
She stood— fingertips tracing the years clinging to her face as her heart fluttered memories of crimson passions now dormant under layers of white. Autumn had come and stripped everything away while winter blustered in with ice and freezing sleet. She felt the chill and pulled her mother’s warmth around her shoulders—a crocheted shield against the biting cold. What was next? She mused—thoughts tumbling about her mind like snowballs rolled carefully by the boys outside her window.
Could they feel it? The seasons slipping past, one by one, as winter melted into spring and spring blossomed into summer and summer gleamed into fall then it all began again.
Did they sense the awakening little by little or did they one day just wake up and everything was different, changed and they couldn’t go back no matter how much they wanted or tried? Elusive childhood as a bouncing red ball they had once caught and held now bumping its way into another child’s hands further up the road leaving behind whys, puzzlement, and questions. Adulthood pressing in and not waiting for an invitation—churning minds into dollar signs, the future, and seriousness. Concerns trying to crease young brows, yet unlined— still pink from an impromptu baseball scrimmage, damp from last summer’s lake water, and cooled by the dappled sunlight in tree forts. She stood—fingertips trailing the lace hem of her Sunday dress as age crinkled around her eyes and settled into laugh lines. She felt it all—and she wondered.
In October, even in South Florida, there is a hint of fall. The sunlight glints through the trees more golden, breezes kick up, and there’s the promise of a reprieve from the humidity–even if we have to wait until November or December for it. Here’s to celebrating autumn whether you are gazing upon miles of open country with trees the color of crimson or you are strolling about a city center enjoying the crisp weather. Cheers!
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon’s
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.
she once thought his face
brought her home to sun
speckled shadows that
cooled her and white-hot
blazes that burned within
one glance and her lungs
began drowning in moist
humidity gasping for
the slightest whisp of breeze
coming off the Atlantic
she looked away her home
wasn’t just stifling heat and
scorching sunshine it was
also diving into cerulean and
inhaling freshly cut emeralds
her home welcomed her
his face turned her out
her home comforted her
his face was vacant a
sign that read For Rent
© Pamela Rossow
Her arms gathered sunrises close
to her, luring in welcomed heat
and searing passions, crimson clouds
Her arms swept galaxies close
to her, drawing in crescent moons
and silver shadows, indigo skies
Her arms cajoled him move close
to me, beguiling with silken skin
and trailing fingers, entwined in
© Pamela Rossow