Four Poster Bed


That four poster bed and me at the foot…

was the beginnings of beginnings

and the irony it took.

My Mother’s plight to come back home,

when our Father’s fights,

were all we had known.

Grandparents adjusting

and opening their doors,

no one needed to sleep on the floor.

The nights we laid, kittens in bed,

me at the foot,

as they snuggled at the head.

Quilts laid busy acoss us just right,

four poster jammed,

with three quite a sight.

As we grew older and given each a bed,

I will never forget the four poster bed,

me at the foot and they at the head.

I wonder in life when all things askew

and the trials I endured

whether old or renewed.

If being at the foot of this bed

gave me the will to survive,

in keeping my head.

© CMM 2002

Cowlick


I was born with a cowlick,

as they say in the South

It is nowhere related

to parts of a mouth.

If you looked real close

nothing laid down.

Hair stood up everywhere

even the crown

People would notice

then look away.

See only the  pretty girls

no cowlicks, got to stay.

But, even born with a cowlick

isn’t too bad.

Cause it won’t make you happy

and it won’t make you sad.

That’s got to come way deep inside

learning to take cowlicks  all in stride.

©   CMM   2012

Waking


I hope I will always wake in tulip sunshine
among the fragrance of green grass
growing near flowing rivers
while breakfast sizzles in
cast iron skillets
with biscuits
on cobalt
blue
plates.
If this
goes away
in my memory
and leaves me for
another day in changed
places, I want to still wake
in tulip sunrise and still smell
the coffee brew to another time but let
not the reciting bobwhites forget to sound; so I will always remember.
copyright: CMM 2005

Silver Sea


Silver lights surround fallen beams cast from summer’s full moon.
Sea is quiet and spreads like a lover in waiting for the ones-to-notice, to linger.
Linger we do, in the dust showered in the reflections of the midnight visit.
Women of generations, sit upon sands that are older than time itself,
Gathering thoughts of times to come, and times that passed as wisdom lingers.
Lingering in moments of contemplation, waiting to be heard.
©  CMM  2012
(Dedicated to my Mother )