Without the stigma,
stationed and docked,
harboring no ill will,
a thrill for a young sailor,
my father in a tropical setting,
letting his guard
serve his mates and country.
In peace time Cuba,
before the “Beard” reared his head.
Day: April 5, 2012
FEBRUARY 5, 1930
A daughter born; a daughter torn.
Life coming and going in an instant.
One daughter coming into the world;
my mother born into the “comfort”
of their hearth and home,
two doors down from where her grandmother
had passed away on the same day.
A sadness unparalleled, a living hell.
My mother, the infant cleaved to
my grandmother’s breast in the upper window,
watching my Great-grandmother’s funeral
process past them in silence to the church
up the street. Victory and defeat fleeting.
A daughter born; a daughter torn.
Life coming and going in an instant.
SOUNDS OF SILENCE
I turn toward you
eyes butterfly and fail to focus.
But your smile appears,
an alluring signal that says
all it needs to say.
I pull you closer, submitting
to your will – and mine.
I find that without words
love’s fire burns as fiercely.
I am warmed by your heart.
A great way to start the morning.
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 