When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,
carefully applying the bright red to my lips,
I picture my mother looking back at me.
She was not one to fuss with makeup,
but always applied her lipstick with care.
Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.
And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,
now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,
shining my light for the world to see.
Tag: continuing bonds
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Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick
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If I Could Dog-Ear a Day
Title inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I’d mark the days when it was just the three of us,
sitting around the glass-top table in your cozy Florida kitchen.
Although one of five children,
for those times, I was your only child,
soaking up the sweetness of having you two all to myself.
The click, click, click of the cards as we shuffled the deck
for the many games of rummy we’d play.
Sharing stories of your life, often heard, but always enjoyed.
Mom, always bragging about being the
rummy champion on Center Street as a child,
was never a graceful loser but was always ready to start anew.
Dad holding onto his cards to get the most points in a play,
even if it meant losing big if one of us played the last card first.
These simple everyday moments are treasures
I hold onto when I miss you the most. -
Meet Me Under The Blood Moon
For Mike
I wrestled the camera onto the tripod,
preparing for the appearance of the blood red moon.
I traipsed in and out of the house,
making sure the camera base fit tightly to the stand,
gathering extra batteries so I could capture the moment
and adding layers of clothing
to keep me warm from the bitter night air.
Finally, everything was set,
and I could enjoy the celestial drama.What I found as I tilted my head upwards in between shots
was a wave of peace washing over me.
On this day when you died thirteen years ago
you felt so close in this otherworldly expanse of time and space.
As the red shadow floated next to the dazzling moon
it was like we were dancing in the sky.
And though I can no longer feel your arms around me
or hear you speak my name,
at that moment, I knew that you were somewhere,
just out of reach, watching over me from another horizon. -
The Seed
An Ode to My Parents
The seed was planted, watered, and tended with love.
With the warmth of the sun, it was allowed to grow.
The sower’s voice spoke gently, encouraging it to blossom
With petals full of love, stretching out to the world.
It watched the gardeners’ example of gentle compassion
As they walked along the flowerbeds,
Treating each flower, whether thriving or dying,
With dignity and grace.
For they knew that the flowers’ beauty must grow from within
If it was to brighten creation once it left the safety of the bed.
The sower released the flower to humanity once
All the wisdom had been bestowed upon it,
Allowing it to spread its seeds to all it touched.
Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems 