memories – Page 6 – Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Imagine…

Imagine a forest where the colors run free

you might see a pink and blue hibiscus

and you can rest under a lavender tree.

Purple lace drapes the branches above

as you stroll through the violets and lilacs

happy forever, dancing in a forest to love.

Imagine a forest where the colors run free

where the rain drips pink marshmallows

and Swiss Hot Chocolate always is free.

A little house you could call your own

with thousands of books waiting to be read

and never, ever, the sound of a ringing cell phone.

Imagine…

2014

Imagine a world
where the flowers are blue
the sky is Cinderella pink
and your heart is brand new.
Heart never been broken
never kicked to the ground
a home built on rainbows…
awesome flowers surround.
Tears are never shed and
willow trees do not weep
when you close your eyes…
your soul He does keep.
Imagine a world
minus cursing and screams
imagine a world
where kindness beats mean.
Rose colored angels
waltz through your dreams
while dainty butterflies dance
on clouds of whipped cream.
Imagine…

Words & Pictures: Jeanne Marie, 2014

Petals Fall

Proud and bright
you hang.
Petals, firm and strong.
Then, one by one,
damaged petals
start to fall.
One by one,
till blooms
form a mountain
of red petals on
the cement floor.
Petals fall
as lovers argue
destroyed by
neglect and time
until love’s light
goes out
and velvet petals
wither on the floor
as quietly, they die.
A little water
a little kiss
a smile, a hug.
Nope, didn’t happen.
So one plus one
who once were two,
are now alone.
Each too proud
to clean the mess
or to pick up
the phone.
Petals fall,
one by one
by two.

by Jeanne Marie

Wordless Wednesday

Love will color your world…

Dear daughter in prison,

Dear daughter in prison…

When you feel so alone and

there are bars on your door

I am standing beside you

of that you can be sure.

When letters don’t come

And you think you’re

forgotten

remember how

against all advice…

I still spoil you rotten.

I’m there beside you

in ways you can’t see

even though you kick

and you scream

as if you were three.

Soon your caterpillar

skin you will shed

and my beautiful

butterfly you

will be free…

hopefully before

I’m dead

or before

I’m lifting

seventy pound

care packages

at ninety-three.

Your loving mother,

Jeanne Marie

When pictures fall…

When pictures fall
chills sliver up my spine
I try to catch the frame
before it hits the floor.
Catch it! Catch it!
Don’t let the glass smash
slicing paper memories
from when we believed
that our love would last.
How will I remember
what is supposed
to be mine, unless it’s
hanging in its frame?
Catch it! Catch it!
When pictures fall
memories are shattered
and in tears, I wonder…
why does it take disaster
to make me remember
just how much I love you
after all?