social medium

Sometimes
I wonder

if my ex

ever looks

at my Instagram.

Not that I think 

that he’s missing me.

But I’m pretty sure 

he misses my cat.

roses are red

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
At least, those are the linguistic terms we settled on to describe what is assumed to be a shared experience of reflected light as received by receptors in the eye and transmitted to the brain...
But, who knows, really.

WrittenRiver: image prompt - statue

eyes cast below
she mourns
the little life
she'll never know
turned to stone
by her grief
left by love
without relief
not maiden now
but not yet mother
cast aside
forever other

WrittenRiver: littered with stars

prone, eyes rise
seeking infinity
in kisses bestowed
by the summer wind
under halcyon skies
littered with stars
spelling out forever

for Lady S

some amble in a quiet way

but rarely her and not today

sweet and kind, but not meek or mild

she has a flair - that brave, bold child

with gorgeous grin and cheeks all rosy

she enters and exits with Dramatic Mosey

MPR Raccoon

inquisitive nimble hands
grasp unforgiving stone
man's monoliths should
daunting be but you defy
gravity with graceful audacity
and skyward bound for glory
our nervous eyes turn to you
humbled and hoping

forgetful

i ran so fast
i left my heart
like a toothbrush
in a vacant hotel room
before the maid comes
discarded by the sink
next to the soggy washcloth
destined for the rubbish bin

TuscanyB

A poem inspired by "Tuscany' - a great unintentional writing prompt on twitter:

we, all of us, are
empty boxes
of bent and bruised
cardboard made
held together by
hope and
tattered tape
waiting to be
filled or folded
finally