poem

3 Words

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guest blogger

by Marilyn M. Lee

Please don’t say it

I can tell you want to

But I’m begging you not to

You’re not going to be happy with my response

Which is running

“I’m just not looking for anything serious” will be what I lie to you

Lie to myself

The odds are not good

10 times proposals have been whispered

Come and gone

Never followed with an “I do”

 

Please don’t say it

It’s an expected month recovery

At least

On my end

I get attached, so you won’t be the only one hurting

But don’t worry

The next one you meet will be the one

There will be tuxes, and dresses, and music

I’ll be a memory

But you’ll still hang in my heart, while I fly from yours

 

Please don’t let him say it, I plead to Above

Please don’t make me do this again,

Say these words

They are the same words every time

Cause honesty scares me

It hurts, I’ll pray

Every time

I’m losing strength

Every time

Gaining fear

Gaining doubt in myself and my decisions

Get me through this

Give me hope

Give me strength

 

So please don’t say it

Maybe you won’t be sad,

But you’ll regret it

And I’ll be struggling

Love and lost is not always better

Sometimes it’s better to never have

 

 

Please let me say it.

Next time, please let me agree

© 2014 ck’s days

 

To a Very Special Mom

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guest blogger

by Marilyn D. Lee

Ever since D and I have been married,

in my heart a message for you I’ve carried.

Now that Mother’s Day is coming around

I’ve decided it’s time to put some of it down.

I haven’t known you for very long as time goes,

but you are a good mother as everyone and Heaven knows.

How do I know these things are true?

Three wonderful children were guided by you.

D is the one that I’m thinking about –

he is the greatest man without a doubt.

You’ve taught him very well the things he should do.

As a husband and a father he is the very best.

His love, kindness and manliness have stood the test.

All these qualities and many others that he has

are all because of you, a very special lass.

I have always told him he is a very gentle man.

That’s because his mother is a very gentle woman.

At this time I’d like to say something long overdue

for raising such a special son I say thank you.

written for Mother’s Day 1973

© 2014 ck’s days

 

The View

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The road below

I am surrounded by hills.

I used to go walking and there was a spot I’d visit.

It kept secrets well.

In fact, the ground was littered with shiny, broken secrets from other people.  People who visited at night.

I always visited during the day.

“I want out of this town,” I confided to the sagebrush.

“My life will be much happier when I’m out,” I told the rocks.

“I hate my life here!” I’d yell down to the road.

“Life isn’t fair.”  At that time, I indulged in the belief that life had to be fair in order to be good.

I-80 stretched  out below me carrying bug-sized cars to different destinations.  It disappeared around the bend in the east.

It was my hope that life didn’t end in town.  Surely, there was more than what I could see.

When the time came, and the time was right, the road below would be my escape route.

The same road that got me out, brought me home again.

I visited my spot the other day.  The cars hurried on their way below.

“I miss my mom,” I confided to the sagebrush.

“I want her back,” I told the rocks.

“I miss my mom and I want her back!” I yelled down to the road.

“It’s not fair,” I said as more of an indulgence than belief.  I’ve learned life isn’t fair, but it can still be good.  It’s how we handle the unfairness that determine our happiness.

The road below still disappears around the bend in the east.  It reminds me there is more than this town.

When the time is right, and the time will come, I will follow a road out of town.

And return home.

Originally posted May 8, 2012