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

She and the Sea


Her soul needed refreshing 

she returned to the sea

when the waves came, her troubles leave

her hair played with the wind

her smile swept across her face

she felt the universe give back her grace

early morning from darkness to light

rise into colors of orange, pink, reds 

she nodded and watched, no words said

Her soul needed refreshing 

she returns always to the sea

where the waves come, her troubles leave 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

The Gift


                                                 The Gift

I find myself (as I do every Christmas)  thinking back to a

special lady who always made Christmas so loving. There was

one gift I always remember and treasure is the one from

Grandma.

She was old and retired. She was living on a very limited

income. Each Christmas she would set up a tree no taller than

2 feet. It was artificial and set on a little table covered with cotton

from old boxes replicating snow.

She would take the little money she had and buy each of her

grandchildren hose for the girls and socks for the boys. Even

today I remember her going to the little tree. Her hands had

become old with swollen joints and trembled just a little as

she picked up the little gift wrapped in thin paper from the year

before. There was always a thin ribbon, usually red tied to the

gift. Handing me the little gift, she would say, “It’s not much.” I

would always smile to her and say, “Grandma, you have no idea

how much I needed hose.” She would smile and sit next to the

little tree. Today that gift keeps giving back to me. It was love.