Eighteen Years

She lost at love

not once

in eighteen years worth of marriage,


Never quite enough to satisfy
the desire of his wandering eye;

unable to break-through the barriers
erected, while he looked through her to
his fantasy – long lost love.

She’s left
holding the scraps of a battered self-image.

She wants to believe in herself.

The absence of the first stings her with tears
as she watches his children become young men.

The absence of the second bewilders,
hurts deeper than she had thought possible.

She knows neither cared
what was left in their wake.

Eighteen years later
she’s gained enough strength
to survive


– again.



She Keeps on Writing


Glamorous at thirty-four, she was young,

flippant and free.  You’d never guess she was

a single mother of rambunctious boys –

two charmers – their father’s eyes and her smile –

a dangerous combination for life.


Slipped into silk, or satin or black lace,

green eyes sparkling, she took on the world,

her imagination the written word.

She danced beneath the moon, believed in love,

friendship wrapped with passion and desire,

and a dash of lust for late night romance.


Attractive at forty-five, in her dreams

excitement exists, life holds promises

yet to be found with opportunities

undiscovered – so she keeps on writing…