A Mothers' Day Thought

All of us have mothers

(Be they living or deceased),

But only some of us have kids

(Or grands, to say the least).

 

So Mothers’ Day is tricky –

There are highs and there are lows.

We might be thrilled or disappointed –

That’s the way it goes.

 

Today, for me, was wonderful,

Despite a touchy start.

An afternoon with family

Was soothing to my heart.

 

A little lunch, a sweet bouquet

And lovely chocolate cake,

Plus a special trombone concert

Such a perfect day did make.

 

I don’t need fancy keepsakes

To remind me I’ve a place

In the hearts of those I love,

A Mothers’ Day thought to embrace.

Impatient Patient

My husband’s an impatient patient,

Though I cannot blame him,

For waiting to go home is something 

I knew would inflame him.

But when you’re at the mercy of

Professionals, you’re tethered

To all of their machines and tests,

Which leave you spent and weathered.

You sometimes gotta suck it up

And let them probe and poke you,

Despite the fact the bill you’ll get 

Is guaranteed to soak you.

My husband’s an impatient patient,

Which, of course, is trying,

But lets me know, to my relief,

Today he won’t be dying.

Our Sense of Style

Our sense of style (or lack of it)

Evolves but gets its start 

When we are of a tender age

(Not merely young at heart).

For many children know if they

Like shining in a crowd 

And therefore will prefer their clothes

Bright, sparkly or loud.

While others like to blend or fade;

(Unnoticed would be best).

In basic clothing, unadorned,

Is how they will be dressed.

Our preferences may change a bit,

But probably not much.

The snazzy dressers and the plain

Will likely stay as such.

What We Leave Behind

I think of those I knew who’ve passed

And what they’ve left behind,

Impressions that remain engraved

In caverns of my mind.

 

Perhaps just an expression

Or some laughter we once shared

Or a reaching-out connection

Where our truest selves were bared.

 

I conjure up some habits

That endeared or else annoyed

Which, for reasons I don’t know,

Have yet to vanish in the void.

 

We write our wills, bequeathing

What we treasure to our kin,

But the best of us we leave behind

Is what resides within.

Under Observation

A boat called the Manhattan II,

With sightseers on board,

Just glided by en route to places

That they’ve not yet toured.

 

Inside were people sitting down

But outside, on the deck,

Some tourists stood, with better views

Of sights they’d want to check.

 

Their camera phones were pointing,

For the scene that they could see

Did include the mayor’s mansion

And, in front, included me!

 

I gazed back like a creature

Stuck inside a zoo somewhere,

Under observation while returning

Each onlooker’s stare.

Adhesives

Adhesives come in many forms –

There’s glue and tape and paste,

Including some that double-stick,

If you’ve no time to waste.

 

There also are some methods

Which will help things to adhere

In temporary fashion

So a page won’t disappear…

 

Such as paper clips and fasteners

And staples, tacks and pins,

Among the tools that many need

Before their work begins.

 

Still, unless you have an editor,

There is no easy trick

To remind a lazy writer

To his topic he should stick.

Unseen

Below the sea, unknown to me,

Are many things I cannot see

And on the ground, I look around

And know more things unseen abound.

 

For there are worms the rain confirms

And in the air a billion germs,

Plus many bugs ‘neath Nature’s rugs,

Which hide along with snails and slugs.

 

What’s also real that we can feel,

But needn’t see, but helps us deal

Is how we know, though it won’t show,

When we should stick around or go.