Come, comfort me with apples,
or your presence,
perhaps a small smile at night.
Come, comfort me with apples,
From a recent prompt – to write a piece on the above picture.
You left me
towards the door you
no smile no remorse
a gift from me
in the lining hidden
a ring long forgotten
a gift from you
thrown across the floor
I watched it
roll till it stopped
the ones you will
they are round
like the ring
but hold no
titles through tears
that drop silently onto
the ring motionless
makes no sound
as these records
they will be silent
there will be no dance
no dip of love
just the stylus
in my heart
It is just a random thought that has crept into my head this Saturday morning. A pipe (briar), bare feet, dirty faces and rural folk have combined to remind me of part of my heritage. Fascinating, harsh yet comforting.
Life: a decent middle class neighborhood…typical kid and shenanigans…ordinary, if mediocre student…college…a career and decent life style…really a very comfortable life, which I earned…but all this materialistic, fast paced, techno life cannot, must not overshadow my roots.
Farmers. Rural to the core. Somewhat violent. Primitive. Hard. My parents escaped it lest more harm pushed them over the edge. And, all their efforts to build a better life aside, the residual truth remained. The early years etched markings upon them. Reflexively they passed on the pain, leaving similar markings upon me.
Did they see the pattern? Were they at all concerned at passing on the harshness? I don’t know. I just know, I forgive them. And, I hope that perhaps those old folks smoking a briar above reflected at some point on what they had wrought. In the meantime, I will smoke my briar with a smile.
Just in case you may have thought
That I got busy and forgot
The kindness that you showed to me
That’s something that will never be
You gave your time, and awesome skill
Discouraged, I had been so ill
Directly answered prayers I spoke
Twas God who sent you, tears I choke
But tears of happiness are they
And gratefulness I cannot say
No words could ever be enough
Still here I try, though it is tough
How can I thank Him, sending you
For something so big, that you’d do?
It was so long, I’d lost my smile
I tell you, it had been awhile
But now that smile is big and bright
And you, I pray for every night
And never will there come a day
When those dear prayers, I won’t say
Be sure to guard your pearly whites
To brush and floss in morn and night
It’s easy when you’re in your youth
To take for granted every tooth.
But day will come when you will find
Toothaches will make you lose your mind
They ache and throb, your face will swell
You’d swear you’ve died and gone to hell
Take them for granted? Don’t you dare!
You’ll miss them so, when they’re not there!
An old drawing of the girl with the crooked smile-
So blissfully appearing on her face,
So natural that even nature would shy.
Her hair bunched together in a loop-
Stealing the shine of the stars,
Spreading the light of life.
Her eyes seeking answers-
Dotted with the pearls of love,
So intricately assessing the emotions.
Such a pity!
It is just a drawing of the girl,
With the crooked smile.