Everland

Like Wendy, sad at her window
we mothers wipe small fingerprints
from glass, looking through it for hints

of pirates or pixies below.
Languishing eyes search empty skies
for childish dreams we should outgrow.

That old dream outgrew us long since...
and Wendy waits at her window.

I wrote this for One Stop Poetry's form challenge. This week's form is the Octain, which consists of eight lines and eight syllables per line. I won't bore you with the other rules, but I enjoyed working with it!

Click here to read the other octains and high octains submitted.

Playing Dress-Up

After a morning of my daughters playing dress-up with my clothes and accessories, I'm thinking I need to rethink my wardrobe. Is it normal to have outfits that are so easily turned into costumes? Well, good or bad, now I know... with very little effort I can dress up as:

a lady from "Mad Men"...

...a bloodthirsty buccaneer...

 ...or a lumberjack!

Hands I've Held (I)

Your warm fingers
angular and alien
hook through mine as if by accident.
We leave them there
our clasped fingers
and pretend not to notice our weightless hearts.

The day is gray and windy
trees fuzzed yellow-green with spring pubescence.
Cherry blossoms choke the gutters
drowning in Decemberlike rain.

Your fingers are like bare winter branches.

I wish I could go back to December
back to the bare simplicity
of naked branches and dormant earth
before the urges of spring
complicated everything.


For One Shot Wednesday.