A little Boy in the Attic -

A little boy
stares at the fogged glass
wipes a circle clean

In an old room full of dust
old boxes and wrappings

Old grandma's house
in the attic
where he really shouldn't be
but he is

He looks in the cleared glass
and sees a little girl
just standing

In a white frilly dress
like a picture of MoM

So beautiful
pure
innocent
like a true friend

He knocks - on the glass
her eyes open as if woken

"I can't see you"
she replies

I can see you - your beautiful

"only as a child"
and in back of her -

His MoM.....angry spiteful

And later as old Granny
bitter and crinkled in age
and lying in her grave
bones and dust - bugs and such

And then she was back
"don't cry'
as her hand went through the mirror
touching his face
feeling so cool against the heat of the day

No longer a child
mother long gone and buried
hospital bound
a fire he alone survived

A nurse touching his face
a wet towel
pressed light by his hand

Ellie the child's name

grandma
the nurse so beautiful

"your so beautiful", he replied

Only as a nurse, she replied with laughter
like love sweetened
for she would be his wife

Back at the mirror
he replied to the child
"I'll still Love You"
with tears as he cleared the mirror
his eyes drooping with tears + sleep

Found an hour after
mother was about to scold

When she saw the tears almost dried
the empty mirror
her own pictures of so long ago

the love her son must have of her
when she was small as when she was big.

Falling to the boy and remembering when she too was small

Feeling for him
as she's sure he must feel for her
taking him gently
treating him like her son
as not done before.



Earl

A letter came today like no other
the mailman even had tears
my dog didn't even bark not even a whimper

It was like the whole world knew
even what I choose to ignore

The envelope was wet from tears
the tape uncreased and uneven

I left it on the table for days
I dared not look at it
let alone open it

I knew it was from a friend
a dear friend
a warm friend
a nice friend

She would let me talk
I was always uplifted to just say her name
from Santa Barbara she was......

She had a fire that burned like no other
smiled like daisies in a open field

and now she was gone

I needed her too much
her warmth
her love
her California sense of life

She told me to write
let me cry
and now she was gone
like a gentle breeze leaving but memories

I needn't read the letter

I threw it in the hearth
letting it burn as did I
if only in my heart then only in my heart

Earl

PROSE GARDEN


I sat by the trees one gloomy day
I had only a pen
my thoughts and napkins
nuts and stones at my feet

I felt the wind prodding me
the thunder warning me
to write
for soon it would be to late

i thought of hurts
given and recieved
tears felt, seen and sent

Anger wrongly felt
selfishly thrown
kept for warmth

Love + Kisses
oh how I miss the kisses
my first like sweet strawberries (oh how I love strawberries)
my favorite ( forever I wish it lasted)
my third (how I wish for a replay + replay + replay)

The Hugs
poetry written for
remembered
thanked and ached often for

My feelings and Thoughts
they should be honored and awarded
how many times have I forgotten
blamed or cursed them.

My dearest Prose Garden.....thank you Earl