I don't know about anyone else, but whenever I start to stress, I hold an image in my mind of a place where I feel safe and happy. In my case, that's my grandparents' house in New Mexico back when I was a child. I was thinking of this the other day, and this poem kind of wrote itself in my head:
Wind in the trees,
Warm Summer breeze,
Grandma’s garden in bloom,
Quiet windowseat room.
Rain on the mesa,
Lightning in the air,
Thunderheads rolling,
Wild wind in my hair.
The music of rain falling,
The sound of Grandma calling,
The thirsty desert sighing,
The sudden storm is dying.
Colors on the mesa,
The dusty scent of rain,
Bittersweet and vivid memory,
Always there to ease my pain.
Wind in the trees,
Soft desert breeze,
Though all this is gone,
In my mind it lives on.
3 comments:
Awesome painted picture in your poem...I felt like I could be there too. What is it that makes grandma's place so special??? Mine was too!
Marian your poetry is as always beautiful...
hugs Karen
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