Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

To whom it may concern Our intent was not to annoy And if your heart was burned ‘twas no deliberate ploy We only hoped to turn Your mind to countenance True payment duly earned And paid, by happenstance? So if this bill is done Please count your battle won And if it’s not we sadly ought To meet instead in court.

Packing the bags was okay; Just lots of bags and lots of stuff And a last night sleeping on mattresses on the floor. Packing was van was okay; We watched the guys pile everything in; Sons decided they’d never move house or change schools anymore. Packing for the flight was okay; Everyone held their own case, even the kids And everyone cried. Waving goodbye was okay If you ignore my clinging to son who tried hard To be left behind and I couldn’t look in my mother’s eyes. The flight was okay Except one boy lay on the floor and screamed Till I picked him up while the catering cart went by. Immigration was okay With three boys trying to silently say We’re not staying long when we knew it was meant to be forever. The house was okay But not our house our furniture and not our neighborhood Nor our spiders either and this one had a red spot. But that was okay; We slept on mattresses in real beds Till the sons rebelled and slept o...

The days are too short and the dreams are a long Time coming, a long way going; they leave me a long Way behind because Days are too short and the dreams are a long List of promises; one time they seemed almost honest as if I’d believe them but Days are too short and the dreams are a long Road ahead of me built on the memories of long Roads behind and The days are too short so the dreams are a long Time coming.

I walk the damp and lonely green Of wayward autumn grass and see A fluffball white as winter snow That proudly sits to preen. I watch the fluffball come and go Its tread determined stern and slow Its head raised high, its watchful eyes All glazed with winter-glow. And then it’s gone but in the sky Another fluffball floats so high And stares so wary, white and proud While seasons pass me by. Now comes the spring like kittens loud With flutter, cluttered fur, surrounding Where that cat returns to me And sings for summer clouds.

Whisper Whisker Bending Blending Where the broken whisper whiskers its Secret, my ear’s bending, blending in.