U s A
Love you red white and blue You are the sea you are the truth Standing beside - mouth open wide Whispers of song in the light tonight. Tell me where my soul has gone Operas of skyscrapers shining on As long as im with you i know Forward we stand and forward we go.
I wish
To jump in a pile of crisp dried Golden leaves and be a child Take me back there, can you please? I want to feel crunching beneath my feet Take me back there, can you please? To go trick-or- treating in a homemade bat costume, a black sweatshirt with paper wings Take me back there can you please? Friends with flashlights to brighten the night and startle the ghosts Take me back there, can you please? Halloween parties with apple cider and decorated cookies Take me back ther
Mother Laureate
Poetry was made for mothers, scribbling stanzas in stolen moments during bath time, defenseless against sudsy splashes, or silently and by nightlight after her child succumbs to sleep. Long works of prose demand rooms of one’s own, but rooms shared with baby dolls can be the birthplace of verse. Her efforts to tidy will be undone like a sandcastle by the rising tide, but poems, once penned, will last forever. Her most celebrated culinary feat may be smearing peanut butter on
