Friday, January 26, 2007

What You Learn

After a while you learn the difference,
Subtle difference,
Between holding a hand and
Chaining a soul.

You learn that love
Doesn't mean leaning and
Company doesn't mean security.

You begin to learn
That kisses aren't contracts and
Presents aren't promises.

You begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of an adult,
Not the grief of a child.

You learn to build
All your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns
If you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and
Decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.

You learn
That you really can endure.
That you really are strong.
You really do have worth.

Author Unknown

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Music to Me

The piano or organ,
A bug or the sea;
I may be strange,
But all is music to me.

Music comes from
A tuba? A violin?
Or maybe from the fire
As well as any violin.

Some is fun,
Some is more slow.
Your preference is which?
For me, I don’t know.

When I am sad
I like sad songs.
When I’m in the mood
I like bells and gongs.

I also like the rain;
The bass drum – the thunder.
And the string section?
It’s the umbrella I’m under.

Love is the prettiest one.
It’s going on everywhere.
However sweet or sour
By how much you care.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

A Heart Mending Wish

I have a pair of jeans so old.
They've been through many things;
Painting the house, trip by the creek,
Grass-stained picknicking games.

The time when I fell off my bike,
Tore a hole and gashed my leg.
The time when I fought with my husband
and knocked over some dye in a rage.

Used up and torn, ripped, stained;
They need a bit of repair.
I think I shall take the effort now
To sew them here... and there... and there.

Oh to be able to mend the holes like those
That are in my heart so deep.
They don't show like the jeans do
So no one sees the damage I keep.

But the frays tend to make my heart
Lose the function it used to have.
Oh, I wish I could sew it up
Because I have so much love to give.

Like these blue jeans I am feeding
Through my sewing machine
I could patch a spot or two
Reinforce here, and there scrub it clean.

Why does it have to stay broken?
Damaged, injured and scared?
I am a woman in want of love
And refuse to make my heart hard.

By hardening my heart
I know what I'd hide myself from -
The continued barage of damage,
Though true recovery would not come.

I look for hints in your eyes...
Despite my brokenness and pain,
Do you see that I want your love?
Do I dare to approach you again?

You come to me at my machine,
You look into my sad eyes green,
Shyly say, "Dear, could you sew up my heart
Like you're sewing those old blue jeans?"