for my grown son who sometimes is too busy in his world.
drowsed by the chair’s rhythm
cocooned in the sun’s warmth
i Dream
my fourth summer
chasing grasshoppers
in pastures polka-dotted with daisies and black eyed susans
chasing fireflies
in the lazy twilight blanketing the countryside
in purple shadows of old willow trees
crickets and bullfrogs harmonize
time to go in for the night
tanned arms scoop me up
the biggest welcome home hug since the prodigal son’s
soap, yeast, soil , vanilla,
no fancy department store cologne for her
she bathes me
pajamas me
tucks me in
coaches me in prayers
kisses me goodnight
opens the window a fairy’s height
leaves me to fall asleep to the night’s gentle lullaby
My son‘s somniloquay echoes
down the corridor
between sleep and wakefulness
This is my favorite of yours so far, hands down-this is GREAT, Lori. I will go on and on about this one whenever we talk about writing or if you slack off and stop writing I will be like, remember that poem with the lavendar wine- just to forewarn you :) :) :)
Sherlyn Powell opens up about her love and devotion to her family and the overwhelming repercussion when communication breaks down. Heartbroken and distraught she learns to release her prayer and realize with faith God would reunite her family.
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
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Regis
Best wishes
HH