Hi friends. I don’t think that this past full week of the new year is what any of us were aiming for, to start the year out right. These are strange times which we are going through. However, we are not alone. We are experiencing a lot of “stuff”, together. I am grateful to commune with all of you, as we navigate another year of our lives, together. My regular readers know that I dedicate Sundays to poetry. Please share your poems (they are there, in your heart – put a pen in your hand and let them flow out. You will be pleasantly surprised – “Shakespeare’s a poet, and doesn’t know it”) in my Comments section. Today I wrote this poem (I hope that you may relate, and that you can enjoy some familiarity, with me):
It Never Fails
It never fails,
Every year I find it,
That one little relic,
of the holidays past,
That I forgot to put away.
This year it was a sparkly hand towel,
In the powder room,
Depicting a Christmas tree,
Shiny, erect, hopeful and bright.
Could it be a subconscious hint?
Much like a woman who leaves her glove,
After an enjoyable evening out,
Perhaps it’s an honest mistake,
or perhaps it’s an intuitive gesture,
From something deep inside,
Trying to connect and to keep and to hold,
The magic of the moment alive,
For the entire year to come.