The sweetest life

This sweetest life we live
heart shaped world of happy days
the scent of childhood drifting through
the cracks and crevices
of our yesterday driven minds,
peanut butter cookie moments
sweet and smooth
befitting nothing more
than a cold glass of milk.
Thoughts drift back to days gone by
the dairy down the street
the scent of cows in meadows
muching grass to make the white goodness,
and the glass bottles with cardboard caps
sitting in metal cages on the porch
delivered before dawn,
to see how this life is changed
no longer the joy of a door stop delivery
but stores filled with choices
overwhelming to behold
when we just long for the simplicity
of days like we had found
back then.
Aprons and potholders made by tiny hands,
mismatched and ill fitting
but loved none the less
and the plate left cooling
in an autumn window
where the breeze pushed the flavors in
filling the house
with the sense of happiness.
Those days long gone
no children have I to teach,
to bake the sweets that I recall
except for the occasion that arises
when the need to deliver to another
a simple gift to welcome
a thank you or hello,
nice to see you and a thrown together sweet
for you to enjoy
and that maybe you too will remember
those days of your life
when life was simple
and lunch bags carried
a cookie or two,
made with love
by mothers hand.

Sitting at lunch reminiscing of when I was young and how the aroma of home made cookies would drift through the house and how now every variety can be bought off a shelf, but it’s the love built within that really matters, by hand and not machine, time spent to say hey, I care and here, have a cookie or two….or three….with love,
from me.

yummy photo found at:
and the recipe too. 🙂

Deserted love

So long ago these faded memories
How she ran away so many years ago
Away from the love that was dead
Carrying her burden on her hip
Flying to the desert place
Where tiny houses lay so very close
And picket fences kept the border
In check.
To find the love she thought was waiting.

The child plays on the red dusty earth
Green soldiers forms of plastic men
Rolling in the dirt
Riding the truck that was missing the wheel,
Not quite whole.
Cigarette smoke and voices drift
Through open windows
Laughing and happy
Then tears and harsh words took over.
The sky burned brightly and a day passed
Before flying the metal bird
Back in time to that other place,
Where love did not exist.

And the child played once more
In grasses green
Where blue skies floated peaceful
Above her head,
And she talked to the birds
To the animals she found
And she knew that this was not her place,
And she searched the night sky for stars
And the moon would whisper to her
And she then knew what love was,
Open and limitless
Like the night sky,
She knew that her coming was for something,
For someone else,
But that she too had to learn
Why she arrived in this time,
In this place.
She was a piece in this adult puzzle,
Where so many pieces lay missing
Leaving it up to her to find
The missing ones that would make things whole,
That would bring to completion
The perfect image.

Thoughts on broken marriages and seen through the eyes of a two year old child that still remembers even forty five years later the images as if it were yesterday.