The dance moved rhythmically. Flowing grace across the stage. Flashes of colorful fabric. Dazzling smiles. Movement rehearsed to graceful perfection. Steady flow. Steady beats. Rhythmic.
Author: Carried Forth
I am passionate about animals, nature, conservation, photography, writing, dreaming, and being. I love all. I see potential in everything, the beauty in life, and the synchronicity that keeps me on my toes.
I believe laughter can cure, energy is existence, and love is all.
Forgotten Verse
Two rows. Three lines. Forgotten verse.
Intense. Sublime. First.
A first. Frosted. Cold. Drafted that day.
Held the whole world. Words he did say.
Speak lightly. Tread softly. Always care.
For you. For me. For all.
Two rows. Three lines. Forgotten verse.
It was terse. It was terse.
When Life Gives You…
When life gives you lemons, girl, you make lemonade. She said matter of factly, as she ground the lemon half in the citrus press. The room filled with the sour tang of lemons bringing her back to childhood. Back to the front porch where the neighbors all gathered to gossip and drink mamas lemonade.
Shaking the image out of her mind she sliced the lemon in wedges. Eating each with delicate nibbles. Scrunched face. Forcing the bitter fruit down. Convincing herself that it was good. Afterall, lemons detoxify the body.
Blinking rapidly to force the present she tossed the rotten lemon in the trash.Drove to the grocery. Bought a whole bag of lemons. At home she sliced each in perfect halves. Squashing them in satisfying bitter juice from the press. Pouring it all in a sparkling pitcher. Adding a bag, or less, of sugar to compliment the bitterness. Served up with cookies and laughter. Traces of memory dancing through her mind.
Always trying to move forward when life gives her. What? Lessons. Opportunity. Choices. Seeing it all. Past, present, future. Unfolded in front of her eyes. Eyes that long to fall on beauty and grace. Smiling faces. Ears that long to hear melodies. Music so sweet gooseflesh appears.
She digressed again. The longing so old it comforts. Like the well worn blanket tossed in the back of the chair. The lemon press in her hand, old and used. Still producing bitter juice sweetened with sugar. Smells of summer, laughter, and sunshine. Cut grass and bird song. Holding memories in the reservoir. Golden liquid full of blessed memories. Sighs and longings. Laughs and tears.
When life gives you…
Full Of Laughter. Full Of Jest.
On this wonderful, magical quest
ones full of laughter, full of jest.
Pull Up A Chair
Come over here.
Pull up a chair.
Your not going anywhere.
So pull up a chair.
I have a word or two.
A message that is brand new.
Get comfortable, take off your shoes
Pull up a chair, too.
Lean in close and pay attention.
We are paused for this intervention.
Giving the world a chance to mention
As we sit in our detention.
Pull up a chair and listen.
The birds are singing and whistling.
The world’s still spinning.
Pull up a chair and listen.
Amid The Changes
Amid the changes; comfort is found
in knowing that somethings stay around.
The worn out jokes we like to toss back and forth.
The eye roll worthy phrases we use to crack a joke.
It comforts me in this time of need
To have the past provide, a little sample of our love to feed
our souls tonight.
An Illusion Of The Mind
I see you passing by.
I grin. I look. I sigh.
It was an illusion of the mind.
