My grandfather was over for our Thanksgiving dinner this evening and he mentioned a poem that I had written for him and my grandmother, who has since passed away. He still reads it often and remembers her with many different emotions... Painful, yet peaceful all at the same time. It is so important to find ways to remember the ones we have left behind, and remind ourselves that it's okay to think about them, it's okay to miss them, but it's also okay to move on with our lives and be happy. It can be such a difficult balance to find, but so worth it once we do. I miss my grandmother dearly, but I look back with fond memories and deeply appreciate the beautiful person she was.
Edmonton, 1944:
She wore crimson stained lips
and gazed over her shoulder with gentle assurance.
The wings unfolded across his chest
swelling and deflating with breaths of certainty.
The courting commenced.
Three visits and miles of prose,
all the while being drenched by his debonair aura…
Blue Sky Pilot
Dashing didn’t even begin to describe
his stride, his stare, his unflinching desire for her.
And those lips…
Black cherries dripping with lust.
Those lips were all he needed.
"True Love"
He knew it was cliché but
how else was he to describe this vivacious being?
A beautifully entangled life outstretched before them
they knew nothing of.
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