Apple Doll

I am becoming an apple face doll;
age is carving its time on my cheeks,
lines, spots, map my face
and declare the arrival of wisdom
or foolery, depending on one’s
point of view.

I easily relinquish the role
of damsel for crone for there
are secrets one gains with time.
I know now how to savor life,
putting aside dramas–mine and
others, for the sweet serenity
and gratitude that only time bestows.

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I loved these dolls when I was a child…actually, I still do although have not made them in years. Here is how they are made:

http://www.appledolls.org/page2.html

Memories Changing

Sometimes a memory changes
what, at the time, seemed
an unpleasant burden,
over the years transforms
to a sweet remembrance. I
miss my dad’s smelly feet,
my grandmother’s teeth in a glass,
mom’s, “what will the neighbors think?”
What I would give to have them back again;
treasures unrecognized until it’s too late.

Only Alone

Somethings are best done alone.
I wander through the floresta,
chatting with flowers,
singing to the birds,
talking with the Lord.
I laugh out loud, and
nobody looks at me strangely,
dance a little jig across the bridge,
and savor these times of just being me.

Not Enough

I give you the only
love I know how to give,
even though it is not
what you want. Your
need is so great and,
while you think I should
fill it, only the Creator
can satisfy the longing
in your heart. I am but
a small, temporary substitute,
willing but not able.

Cream

Cream, it floats to the top.
We carefully remove every drop.
It’s beaten and sweetened,
piled high, then eaten,
I want more, ’cause it’s hard to stop.

Baby of Hope

A baby is born
and with it hope
for a better world.
Let us cherish this
child whose life
depends on decisions
made today. Each of
us has a connection
to this precious life.
Let us work together to
ensure a world where our
children can live in harmony.

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https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=105229359684445

Who to Trust?

Now that the lies are being
revealed, who do we trust?
Pretty words spring from
hearts filled with, “What’s
in it for me?” And my own
heart, how does it measure
up to what I think I believe?

Yesterday I told a lie, white
though it was, none-the-less,
it is a stain on my integrity.
How is it that I have such a
hard time saying, “No,” to things
I do not want to do? Is my need
for acceptance stronger than
my integrity. So it seems.