Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much, Women Who Think to Much

You Don’t Let Me

You let me cook
You let me clean
I wash our clothes
I sweep up my dreams.

You let me shop
You let me sew
I have it all
Computers, books and clothes.

You don’t let me
See how you feel
You don’t let me near
Any part of you that’s real.

You don’t let me
Close in our
King size bed
I rebel, but only inside my head.

You don’t let me
Love you
I don’t know why
I know one day, I won’t even try.


Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

Father God

I collapsed on my bed the other night
After a long and difficult day.
I cried out to my heavenly Father
Why does it have to hurt this way?
My children rebel, scream and fight
As I try to lead the way.
As I sat there, worn and weary
Suddenly, I saw my Father’s pain
For I am his little child
And often slow to obey.
I thought of all the times
I was a rebellious child.
I ran away from you, my Father
Tried to do it my own way.
I felt your burden and then I knew
How small a cross I bear,
I only have three children, Lord
While your’s are everywhere.

January 29, 1987

Posted in This Is For The Dogs

Goodbye For Now Ms. Skeeter (Kita) March 26

There is never enough time to give all the love you have to anyone. There is never enough time.
I have loved this little dog with all my heart since the day we got her from the shelter in Orlando.
But somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I want to give her more love before she goes, but we’re out of time.
There is never enough time.
Maybe that’s why God gave us dogs, so we could practice grieving the loss of what we love so much, so that when we lose people, we have already had a glimpse of what it’s going to feel like.
We already know what a broken heart is, before we are knocked out of our orbit by losing a person we love.
That’s the only reason I can think of why dogs have a short life, why they usually go before us.
I know God has an incredible plan and that we only see the knots on the back side of the tapestry.
I trust him with all my heart, but I wish letting go didn’t hurt so much.
I love this little girl beyond measure, and that’s why she’s crossing the rainbow bridge today, because I don’t want her to suffer anymore.
She has made me laugh, she has made me cry, she has made me want to pull my hair out. She has bit me when I tried to get my shoes, she has bit me when I tried to wipe her butt or Lord help me, when I tried to cut her toenails.
In the first three years, we went through three rug shampooers before we got her colitis under control and then had to replace all our rugs. We got her healthy, up to eight pounds and we just kept loving her. We saved her and she saved us.
I don’t regret one minute of her life.
She has kissed me good morning every day since the day we adopted her. She looks in my eyes and she sees my soul and I see her’s too.
She’s empathetic, she’s compassionate, and she’s a crazy hellion on four, little feet.
She’s Ms. Skeeter, a one of a kind and she’s my baby.
She was two years old when we adopted her. Just three pounds of wild, untrained energy.
People used to ask me what is that? Is that a dog? Some even thought she was a monkey.
I used to walk her and she’d run me around the park that we lived in, faster than I could go.
People used to laugh as we went by and ask, who’s walking who?
She was like a mosquito, buzzing around her brother, Puppy, and that’s how she got her name.
She’s fourteen now and for the last six months, diabetes has taken its toll.
We’ve had six months of extra time, but that time is up and as long as it’s in my power, I won’t let her suffer anymore.
Mom, I know you don’t really enjoy dogs, but if you could take care of her for me until I get there, I’d be very grateful.
Help her to find her brother, Puppy, and let her run free. She won’t be any trouble at all, unless you take off your shoes and try to pick them up, good luck with that.
Goodbye, Ms. Skeeter, just for now. Run free, and thank you for all the kisses.

Thank you to Dr. Robards and the staff at Eastside Animal Hospital for giving us the last six months and for their extremely compassionate care today.
Thank you to my daughter for taking Kita’s Last Ride with me. 💔💔💔
Also, thank you to my husband for spending thousands on Kita and on every dog we rescued.💔💔💔

Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

The Cliff’s Edge

She walks
Along the cliff’s edge
Looking down.
Behind her
A ravine of lies,
And the man
She loves.
Shattered dreams
Are all she wears,
They are her only cover
From the icy rain.
He walks
Behind her,
Listening with her to
The waves, crashing below.
The thunder booms!
The lightning strikes!
The ground quakes!
She is afraid.
How could she dare to love?
He waits.
He cannot save her
His love sent her to the edge,
He cannot touch her
Or she will jump,
So he stays behind her.
She weighs the choices
While she plays with her life,
Balance a thing of the past
She walks along the cliff’s edge.


Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

The Last Box

I didn’t realize that the last box would be the heaviest,
not until I stumbled with it down what is now your drive.
Tears flowing unchecked were blocking my common sense.
Crying, remembering when our desire was alive.
Shoved the box in the van, slammed my door closed.
Then I checked the garage for things forgotten.
Taped to your toolbox, I saw your favorite picture of me
the one you promoted from your wallet
to the dashboard of your race car, a Vega, 1973.
My image inspired you as you raced
or so you used to say.
I guess the week you yanked me from the car
Was the week you did so well, driving your Vega to first place.
The house looks deserted, the grounds are unkempt and unloved.
Summer heat has burned the lilac bush I finally grew and turned my roses brown.
Flowers struggle among the weeds and most of them have died, died to set me free.
The angel trumpets and morning glories alone proclaim
that once I touched the earth around your home with love.
I bend over to rescue the flowers setting dead in plastic pots,
and then I set them back down.
I can’t save what’s been killed with neglect, I know. I know. I’ve tried.
I knew what would happen when I stopped the watering that kept them alive.
I carried out the last box tonight as the sun was going down
It was so much heavier than the first,
the weight really caught me by surprise.
I patted the morning glories goodbye, watered them with tears.
I climbed up into my van, remembering your words the day you bought it.
As you handed me the keys, you softly said,
“There, now you can take all your stuff the next time that you decide to leave.”
I shifted into reverse, held down the brake as I laid my head on the steering wheel to cry.
Crying because; still, I love you, crying for all that we lost.
The last box was the heaviest, so much heavier than the first
How could I have known that a box of fancy glasses
Would weigh me down the worst?