He sees London, he sees France…

Paris Still Calls

 

He stepped on a plane aimed for foreign soil,

younger than I when Paris first called.

Unplanned himself, he has planned his life well.

He plays the heart strings, plucking with finesse,

to win this mother’s approval for flight

across the ocean to land in my dreams.

He’ll have seen London, Paris, and the wall

that fell before his birth, with eyes younger

than mine were when I danced with Gene Kelly,

the handsome American in Paris.

 

With souvenirs, postcards as reminders

of adventure–I am almost afraid

to live out my own dreams, yet not content

sitting on the sidelines – Paris still calls.

 
Siobhan
06/18/08

 

Alone in the Garden

She searches
for flowers
among the thistles - tired
of being stung
again and again.
She remembers
where she left them,
doesn’t know why
no one else recalls
her care and tenderness
in the planting,
how she nurtured the seeds
cherished the seedlings
as they grew tall
spreading across their world wide.

She stops
muttering to herself
gazes with watery eyes
at the beds before her,
wanders around
pulls weeds by the handful
from the border
of the garden.

Tears mingle
with allergies -
she knows
it isn’t hers
anymore.

 

 

No Memory of Summer

My child looks at me in wonder

when he nears the end of school

asks when my vacation will begin

and I tell him that I no longer get it

Every year the question has come back

circled around as the sun returned

dragging summer along with it

except this year-one returned without the other

He does not remember summer vacation

trips to the mountains, the seashore or the lake

they are not a piece of his past-nor my own

now vacations fall in pieces, hour by hour

I take one here and another there

shove two or three together when time allows

wishing I lived in Europe somewhere far away

mandated to four or six weeks of separation

from my desk and the endless paper shuffle

that daily dance, going nowhere fast.

For me-vacation is a dream

and Summer slips past in one blink.

Siobhan

26 May 2005

 

First IMSA then UIUC

 Higher than Dreams

I left you at the doorstep;

said goodbye

walked away-

not far-only the length of invisible space,

the distance of a phone call

or electronic click of the computer.

My tears hidden from your view,

wiped on the shoulder of your shirt

before I kissed your cheek

and smiled.

I knew your success

even beneath the fear

of failure-yours and mine.

And when I welcomed you home

I had to reach up to kiss your cheek

higher than I thought the dreams

would take you before they took you

away from me again.

This time the walk is shorter

but the distance greater.

This time you will see my tears

because you need to

understand they are proud,

a display of that success

-this time mine as well as yours-

that no longer bows to fear.

Siobhan

06/30/07