City in the Clouds

I see a city in the sky. A wide meadow spreads across the flat plateau of the clouds. Behind it climbs steps that lead to a peaceful pool that trickles down the grassy meadow. If the fairy's flew from that meadow they would reach a beautiful floating rain forest. Natives of the island would greet them wearing clothes fashioned from the nature around them. Banana leaf tunics and grass skirts adorned the ladies while the men might prefer thin bark skin pants. The fairy's would survey this as they continued on their tour.

Blanketing the air beneath the island you would find a gorgeous theater. An elaborate circular show ring where the native elves would put on a grand show! Rock formations made up the seating, some areas rising higher than the others; wouldn't consistency ruin the feeling of freedom?

How do the elves travel? This might cross your mind for the fairy population simply flew. Well, many creatures littered the island with their families providing transportation for land and air. Massive butterflies were more than happy to provide a breathtaking ride to the theater or the meadow. Beetles were numerous and helped with traffic on land. Everything lived in harmony, sharing talents and stories and bartering one skil for the help of another.

Yet just as quickly as I saw this majestic city, just as quickly did I lose it. It disappeared beneath the clouds and beneath my grasp. Oh how I do wish it would last.

Mexico

Can you hear the pitter-patter of the rain falling on the straw? The warm wind blows the droplets here and there as they dance through the sky. As I open the door the warm air hits my skin, breaking away my fear of the cold. How beautiful then to have to opposites meld together. The winds warmth with the sky's cold drops. The clouds break as the sun comes out to great the opposites that shook hands this morning.

The earrings were the thing that defined her. If jewelery wasn't on display I am sure she didn't feel quite the same. The sparkle of her rings or the hypnotic swivel of her favorite pearl dangles finished her look. Shoes were also important; the final words of an outfit spoken with class and charisma.

Hair was never out looked and any makeup was feminine and stunning. An enthusiastic shot of perfume set the whole tone for the day and a pink leather jacket pulled from the back of the closet screamed "Fashion"!

Being a woman wasn't only a right for her, it was an art. Even her evening or bedtime attire was proper. Each smooth sleek nightgown trimmed with ivory lace or each soft housecoat cinched fashionably to her curves looked like it took much effort to adorn.

Yet it was the laught that captured you. That unique bubbly giggle that carried from far away was the feature that she wore most confidently. For if she was giggling, who wasn't happy?

The Girls of Emotion

I think I've seen her before. Maybe we all have. As time goes on and we change and grow I think each woman has chanced a peek at that girl who lurks just behind our shadow. A figure of grace and purity, she goes dancing past us and throws us a wink just in time for our ever remembering hearts to capture. Not one of us can deny that we enjoy these brief meetings yet we would never admit to actually wanting that crucial conversation that could clarify all of the sparks and now cloudy memories of our past. I myself have wanted that exchange of words that would give me that final peace and I do admit that I have rehearsed on many occasions the kinds of conversations I would have with her. So here and now as I write the preface to what I hope would inspire you to practice your reflexes I myself feel encouraged to hold onto those pieces of my life. If you happened to see that colorful dress or hear that bubbly giggle I sincerely hope that you would be brave enough to turn your head and catch that wink.

If I could talk to that girl who diligently searches for snails on the butterfly tree, I would ask her what she worries about. She would probably glance down at the earth and make sure none of her slimy friends were where her feet were soon to trod. the golden hair that adorned her would be falling loosely down around each shoulder and her rosy cheeks would lift as she smiled and walked towards me. Ivory arms would lift to the sky, each of the snails holding tightly to her skin, and her reply would be a simple "nothing". The ripple of that bubbly giggle would fill the whole backyard as we would sit and talk under two large maple trees just brimming with the life of summer.

If I could talk to that girl that sits by the river, I would ask her about love. Her head would probably tilt gently to her right shoulder as she grabs the end of her long braid to pull it over her left shoulder. The blue of her eyes would curiously look towards the sky as her teeth would quickly bite over her bottom lip in a curious pose. That carefree smile that I remember so well would light up her face and she would respond with a giggle and a single sigh. The hem of her dress would teasingly graze the top of the water as her feet felt the slippery moss that grew on the river rocks. Her long and slender fingers would then prick the surgace of the water as she carved a figure eight into the liquid. "Love is like this water," she would say as the smile on her face would widen.. "It would be forever constant if our curious and persistent nature didn't cause us to ripple and break that seal."

What do you think? I am hoping that these girls have encouraged you to chose a quiet and contemplative place to sit and think about the past. You might even realize that your patience for the past has run out just a little and that you might not be so inclined to snatch that glance at the girl fleeting by but if you do, that option is always open.

Gone

You were here, truly and really here. I could feel your warm and beautiful life flowing through your hands as they soothed me. The rhythm of your heart was a beautiful melody as it sang a complimentary tune to the Lord.

I could see you. Not just that physical body but the woman living inside those eyes. The fighting spirit that clasped hands with the loving caregiver; strength with gentleness. My eyes could see you.

You were peaceful as you rested there. A quiet fight that you put all you had into. My heart brimmed with love and respect for you. My hand held yours and the feeling of the life within you was still there. I held on and squeezed, hoping I could somehow fan your flame. You were there... then you were gone.

Flying! That same moment you were soaring in glory with life and full of that stubborn strength. I couldn't feel you hands flowing with that life, but you could feel mine.

A Pink Flower

It is one of many
One
Yet completely unique
Holding itself high
To be noticed by all

The wind sees the tree
Not as individuals
As one whole until they sway
Yet they individually feel

They live and they thrive
Winters breeze comes too soon
Each petal falls breaking the unity
Stripping each tender part
Dismembering the pack

What do we see now?
Each leaf lies isolated
Unity is no more
Yet it once started in confidence.

Control

Oh, why do I feel like those times when I lose control are the ones that should be mattering most?

When each minute
flutters like
passes like
the last.

While I see
through the tears
with weakness
and pain.

I see that one who sees me beautifully even when my emotions are a ghastly beast. He looks at me with love and affection; a stare of gratitude and thankfulness. His eyes fill with respect and tenderness, all the while I see through those gifts and seer it all with my greed and regret.

I know that this is me and your time has now come to receive a heartfelt apology for the wrong that I have done. For every heartfelt stare that you so graciously gave, I know you deserve all that back and more. <3

Kites

Do you hear that? The sound of the ocean waves as they cry out in pain when each one of their fingertips gropes against the barnacle covered rocks. If you carefully turn your gaze over your right shoulder, your eyes might settle on the think bodies of the weeds as they strongly pull themselves up through the spaces in the warm rocks. on the left side of you the story takes your eyes to the sky as you open your view o the kaleidoscope of pigments creating a painting in the sky. If you look behind you, there they are. All your memories and plans that have passed simply sparkle behind you. Yet ahead, that is where your eyes seem to focus. Things to come and new chances to take are out there. Your eyes drink it all in.

Go big or go home... A phrase we would love to throw around and claim as our own. However, the real question is whether or not we still feel that way when life changes. Do we still feel those heart throbbing moments that lit our fire, to try out hardest? Or do we still, have we still, will we still go big or go home?

Enjoy your youth... Do we forget about those years gone by to simply avoid confrontation within ourselves? Is there a continual unhappiness because of a mentality that youth comes only once? We need to break out of this shell, for youth is not lost! Each beginning that we allow for ourselves is something that starts with the freshness of youth. We must only wait for a new bulb we have planted, so that it can have its own chance to lengthen and grow.

The Fear

Oh, how it takes you in its icy grasp and shakes you until you cannot think; a logical thought no bigger forms in your mind. You resolve to relax and free your constant fretting but you are still a prisoner of this fear. Its claws nab your skin and make your throat tighten. How can this be? only a short time ago you didn't know this horrid beast;now a friendship has more than begun. You just want to feel, not fret; see and not spook. You want your senses to lighten and your muscles to stop aching.