This Fort January 13, 2010

We built this fort
with all the
energy and optimism
of youthful sport.

A solid foundation
well-laid out
Precise execution
absent of doubt.

It would be the best
there’s ever been!

But we grew tired
And the cold crept in.

Numb and weary
we ditched the plan
Throwing on the layers
as fast as we can.

Certain we’ll
go back later
To fill in the gaps
and empty craters.

On we went
with the rest of our lives
Leaving the fort
on it’s own to survive.

And though we thought
all remained the same
It seems somehow
so much had changed

Imperceptibly,
a little at a time,
It twisted and fell
into yours and mine.

Now here I stand
in the dark, alone
A bit of a stranger
in this place called home.

Clearly I see
that solid foundation
But the mess on top
pricks my eyes with frustration.

I wrestle with the demons
Which ones tell the lie?
Best to start all over-
this can’t be built too high.
Or it’s strong and sturdy,
only slightly awry.

Either way, I pray
my faith will grow stronger
Because I can’t look
any longer
at what used to be
should be, could be
may be.

Turning away
with a silent sigh
kept inside
the tears not cried.
Even with a fort
some things still die.

Playing in Bed December 21, 2009

I used to love
To play in bed
When I was supposed
To be sleeping instead.

I’d turn and squirm
And to the bottom head
To a secret place I felt lead.
Like another planet
Where sparks fly
From flannel pajamas.

Why did I like that
I wonder today.
Muffled and constricted
Where the blankets stay.
Barely able to breathe
Panic grew the longer I strayed.
And my hair would tangle
An uncomfortable way.

But I do miss the sparks,
I must say.

Now in the morning
My children come
Snuggled up at first
Like a glove.

But soon they start
To flip and flop
Crawling from the bottom
To the top.

My aggravation
I should quell
But I don’t handle it
Very well.

Why can’t children
Just lie still?!

Slow It Up a Bit December 21, 2009

I’m so surprised to see

This older skin all over me
While in my brain
I feel just as young as I used to be

Sad, really, that I’m not ready
To just set it free.

I find myself wanting
Not to turn back time
But slow it up a bit
While I seek what’s mine.

I remember Cheryl
With her sparkly eye shadow
At seventeen, we were so mean.
Totally now I know her peril.

Time to move on
Into the next stage?
Life’s a bitch
As we face our age.