Betty

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Doll-play 

Lasted all of three months

For me my friend

Declared abandoned 

Once the pattern repeated

Once two many times 

For me to ignore

How they toss her aside 

From their box

And steal her pretty shoes

Anymore

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Was that photographed tree
Standing strangely tall above the tree line
An old soul of a sapling
Was he?

Were the smallest birds smart
Drawing near to his clear air up there
Beckoned by his branches -come, play!
Were they?

Will people seek solace 
Called by common-ground conscience
Hearing his cry -come up high!
I cannot ask anymore

Play There

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Make a place for play there 
Surround it with see-through walls
With Welcome signs
For the range of races
And good games to share there 

Take time together there
Enveloped in everlasting stories
With marching little men
For the giggling of girls
And making moments long there 
 

Honey, Come Home

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The attempt to describe what must only be felt will, at best, leave one longing for proof

It’s the warm, vintage light and the welcome white noise -eager footsteps not shuffling to greet you

There’s the “thank-you-God” eyes and the rules about kisses that apply to goodbyes and hellos

The dinner hour near, it is time to give chase to the table, for the smell of the sauce does compel 

Do you picture the taste, do you sense the good love, do you dare touch the gifts from above

I left the light on, my account is not wrong, but again, you must feel for yourself