Poetry ~ October

Meet me in October
at the coffee house on Maple Drive
where leaves of every color
make autumn come alive!

We'll sip pumpkin spiced lattes,
and snuggle by the fire,
reminisce and gossip
of how fast a year goes by!

And when our cups are empty,
I'll slip a kiss upon your cheek
and watch you fade into the autumn mist
until again we meet.

Poetry ~ Traces

 a dark storm
obscured her path
sending her back in time
in search of traces
left by a younger self


her obsession,
the necessity to leave clues
on the path she'd traveled
in preparation for lost thoughts
in a future filled with chaos


she is grateful for the traces
that remind her

of a path less traveled
and clear signs of a future self
destined to leave her mark

Poetry ~ The Way Back Days

I'm coming up on
fifty-nine
and realized

I've lived through
other times,
the way back days,
as the grand-kids say.

Some might call 'em
the good old days.

Looking back, I see my
early life in black and white,
television shows in shades of grey,
and TV dinners in aluminum trays. 

Walter Cronkite broadcast the news
of a war in the jungle; we were
destined to lose.

The Ed Sullivan show
was Mama's fave she even
let us stay up late to see the debut
of a British boy band with long
hair wearing black suits.

It takes a long life,
to reflect upon your
way-back-days.
I've been blessed.
I am grateful.
With every

sunrise
I'm still amazed!