I visited a farmhouse as a little girl. I had never been up wooden stairs, woke up early in an iron framed bed, nor had I eaten bisquets like Sharon's mother made.

Her daddy showed me how to milk a cow that summer (I wondered how the bug got through her teet not realizing it flew into the bucket). With permission from Sharon's mom, we headed off to the pond. We were so excited as we walked down a narrow white top road, all dressed in our bathing suites swinging towels and giggling. Wild tall grass on the side of the road was garnished with wildflowers. The sun was warm and the sky was blue. The air in Washington State was fresh. Barefooted and carefree we were.

Down a slope off the side of the road we ran through a path to find a circle of large rocks that held a pool of cool water that was fed by a creek that continued to trickle below the pond.

We swam, laughed and splashed! I tried but could not reach the bottom that I could see because the water was so perfectly clear. We were shaded by overhanging trees.

I remember the pride of being a "Brownie" and summer camp songs.

Reading this I realize it was not getting married, traveling or owning a home that gave me happiest times. The happiest times were singing on a bus full of fifth graders, heading to the Alamo in Texas, cross country skiing out into the middle of a frozen lake in Maine with my friends and singing in a high school band.

We made tunnels through the snow and in summer days we played "Kick the Can" and "Red Rover" in the yard.

We played through dirt piles and wooden frames when a new home in the neighborhood was being built.

Halloween was nothing short of a good time.

Slumber parties..

Making amateur movies with my brother, our friends and his 8mm film..

My brother and I would explore rocks and caves with our friends in Rockspings, Wyoming and we watched the tumble weed while we ate the stew we made outside over fire.

Barbara and I would tap dance on a raft in a large swimming hole at the bottom of a hill to the slogan song, "who wears short shorts?"

I remember not being able to control laughter in class, making tents in the yard and pretending to be Coca Cola models holding our glass bottles up with interlocked arms.

I remember making the cheerleading squad and after the game we'd all hang out at a Pizza Hut in Tennessee.

I remember Claudette Cooper in South Carolina. We would take long walks on the beach and playfully throw jelly fish at each other. Then as the sun went down, snuggle under the covers telling stories and talking about boys.

I cannot forget feeling romantic towards my first love as we sang in the church choir.

Those were the best of times. They were worth the saddest 'good-byes' when my parents said, "We will be moving again. It's your daddy's job."

I remember the overwhelming love rush of holding my babies for the first time.

Then it was my job to see that they had happy memories too.

Sometimes

it is hard to breathe.

My lungs

are compressed

by

b o u l d e r s

that sit

on my chest

weighing down

on my life.

Sometimes

it is hard to breathe.

Life whips

around me

like a

t o r n a d o

and

I can’t

get

a moment

to gasp

for

a i r.

Sometimes

it is hard to breathe.

But it’s only because

I find

myself

u n c o n s c i o u s l y

holding my

b r e a t h

for

30 seconds

60 seconds

120 seconds...

Sometimes,

it is hard to breathe—

so

I just don’t.

The tic of time pass by slow

Paralyzed, I lay still

Soaking in salty waters

Of smoky memories..

as it's burning embers fade

Into the darkness

I find consoling

Mist from frost arises

murmuring sounds from snowdrifts

gift of winter – peace.

* * * * *

Why did you chain me to rusty walls

amidst the wails and squalls

of circling tomcats and tabbies?

Caged inside your ragged borders,

birds of prey circling my bones

while myriad cats bide their time

for morsels of me scattered on ground.

I pen my pleas on the murky ceiling,

written in the blood you have wrought,

my torturous thoughts smeared in dust

while trails lead to legions of mangy cats.

I am alone while you prance with felines,

catapulting over me, caterwauling.

What is your problem, cat got your tongue?

You open your mouth wide and swear

hordes of cats have eaten your tongue.

#Challenge #CatGotYourTongue

This molten butter

soothes and hides

my open wounds -

feathered images

pressed in butter

poured onto me,

leaving oily trails

under my chin.

I recall all

your brushed words

of melted butter

which congealed

almost

before you left,

leaving me

with greasy crumbs

of vague regret.

in the darkness

your voice is as big as a sea

inside of me.

i remember you

as you were, standing

naked, half-erect,

the moonlight glancing

softly on your upper body,

making your skin

look so pale, like

porcelain. china-soft, open

to love and change.

you tell me all the things

you always expected to keep

secret, hidden,

and i touch them

like i’d kiss your hair, all

breaths and half-laughs,

so in love i can’t move.

I hate when my dreams are so vivid - last night I had a set of nightmares - the first one I was walking in a field unfamiliar to me and then as I walked I came across an abandon warehouse.

Almost like a barn but much bigger. I didn’t like the feeling I had when I saw this building Then I turned to a noise on my left and it was my brother. Then a noise to my right was my old friend.

“Well are we going in?” My brother asked. I nodded and we entered the building through a whole in the side of the building. Exploring looking at things very old as if it were the turn of the 20th century. Then we came across items stored on shelves, and it didn’t feel quite right I had a feeling of dread and then when we get to this one aisle there were red balloons tied to the posts with clown costumes hanging by each of the balloons.

Thats when I snapped awake - I looked around and then took a drink and went back to bed. The second dream was of me laying in bed and I can’t move my arms. As hard as I try I can’t lift them- then I thought I must be dreaming - then all of a sudden I was able to lift my arms.

I shook them and I get up to go to the bathroom - the bathroom door from the bedroom to the bathroom is just a door but instead of walking in to the bathroom there was now a small hallway - and I look and there are shelves of towels but the towels give way to a clown with an evil face and a red balloon...

He lifted a finger to his mouth and “Ssssshhhhhhh....” he smiled and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth were there - I started screaming in my dream and a hand shook me awake feeling my legs twitch like a dog and screaming...the only problem is I sleep alone...

Your fist collides with the mirror

As it shatters I can't help but think

Of bad omens and superstitions

Blood running down the side of your hand

Your tears of frustration and eyes of pain

Bring me not to reality but into you

A beautiful tragedy that stands before me

My masterpiece centered in this house

Hidden from the prying eyes of others

Like a sculptor discarding another draft