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I take pride in being my Mother’s son; yet

she was the focus of my Life: and having

lost her presence from everyday, knowing

she Loved me is just not quite the same

as holding her hand..

COMMENTS

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crowgirl
22:58 Dec 20 2009

I'm so sorry, hun.

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ladyofdragonrose
23:08 Dec 20 2009

*hugs

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POST COMMENT

“I tend to spend too much time

looking out the front window,

in expectation: of what I don’t

know, or would rather not admit.”

and, words rise from the page like a bird in flight, bringing multi-form colour to thought’s of black, that are drawn back like a blind, by words that are kind; and bring with them a rainbow to brighten a world of grey.

I walked mike round the back

to get his bike, an thankfully

the air was feeling fresh, just

after the rain; and there’s no

doubt about it I was feeling

good; and then he pointed of

the stars ahead of where he

stood, that shone bright on the

dark recesses of the lawn broaching

beech hedge in winter. And I told

him the light’s belonged to the people

at the back, but thought to myself,

‘they do look like star’s, at the bottom

of your garden.

As the washing hung on two maidens before the fire, I dragged little Mother out, as it was shining bright outside with a fine blue sky and, the light rain had stopped long enough for her to join me, once she had wrapped herself up well: and needless to say, whilst we were out in the back, she decided a plant from the front needed to be put in the back. So I had done as my supervisor had instructed, satisfied I’d done a good job. And then, as I stood back, I’d had the second supervisor come out, to inspect all I’d done, the Robin, with its knowing eye just checking me out, closer than I’ve ever been to one of it’s kind. And then, as the light rain began to fall, yet again, I’d smiled at my Mum pleased, so pleased to have got dirt beneath my nails, this sunny Sunday morn.

Have you ever dunked a ginger crinkle,

into your instant chocolate, counting the

seconds you can leave it in, so you can

pull it out whole and swallow it in one,

whilst still tasting the hot instant chocolate?

Listening to ‘Once Upon A December’ ~

He closed his eyes and listened to her voice and the sound of the rippling strokes, of not that accompany her voice. And he sees the two women she spoke of, riding amongst rolling hills and verdant pasture, an he feels in his heart her loving caress of the white ivory, that produced such cadence of words, the sheer lilting beauty of which transcends any grammatical errors; and he listened truly listened, as so few rarely do, for her words were beauty, to his eyes and ears…