Thoughts in a Quiet House

The house is quiet; the music: new wave

Soothing harp and piano a diversion from other days.

Chirps of birds, bubbles of brooks soften what is hard.

For decades my life has been messy and loud

Inside my head if not inside my house.

As years fly past, I look at the road behind,

Wishing more time was spent hearing life’s music

Too often I forgot about stopping to smell roses.

While I was surrounded by life’s colorful blooms.

Counting each day raising human flowers.

A marvel, what feeding, watering, a soft bed can do!

With tender care, giggles and hugs in return.

Grape juice stains and cookie crumbs.

Clutter of playthings cleared, and then undone.

Little faces and soft little hands

And big, heartbreaking eyes always asking for answers. 

Looking for my ever-present, reassuring smile.

Always ready with embraces of hope and safety.

Hiding tears, be they from joy or fear

Defying bad weather, or other signs of reality.

Then, all of a sudden, a human taller than I

Can tend a garden without my grandmother hands

Reality:  years blown away in the wind.

But my younger self won’t yet agree to yield.

Years may have given me wisdom; now I know

A child resides in all of us.

I still must reach out and try to capture magic.

Like catching fireflies darting around the garden at night.

And life is a lesson in irony:

Now it’s the children who find answers for me.