French Blue Skies
She recalls French blue skies when cold invades
and being alone is unbearable;
they are her sanctuary in winter.
When he was present, the grey washed away.
Even when distanced by thought, he was still
wrapped inside her heart; she took him with her
to work each morning, to her bed at night.
A silent traveling partner, he shared
the sight of ocean below the plane,
lights atop the Eiffel Tower at dusk,
croissants and dark coffee laced with cream –
the enjoyment of a Paris café.
She journeyed alone thousands of miles,
to find her way back into love again.


Closer to the Surface

A cool breeze caresses the sleep crease
still visible on my cheek,
I hold my coffee cup close, hoping
to steam away the remnants of sleep,
waken from the fog left by dreams
still dawdling in my mind.

Slipping away from the covers,
I have sought comfort
in early light and sounds of morning
beyond my front porch.
Plants to be tended, reminders
of the need to repair railings,
and fill the dog’s water dish, over-turned and empty.

Evening-chilled cement soothes cramped feet
and the waking world nudges me
closer to the surface of life.



With Butter and Jam
She wakes, body stretched out to the edges
of a twin bed, covers rumpled from sleep.
Sunshine filters through the unfamiliar
curtains; sounds drift in the open window. 
Disoriented, she closes her eyes,
takes a deep breath, and remembers… Paris.
She knows that if she looks out the window
now she will see the skyline of her dreams,
the Eiffel Tower on the horizon;
the shelter of the Montparnasse’s shadow.
Up the street, a café for coffee, fresh
croissant with butter and jam, is waiting.
She slips from bed, slides a sundress over
nakedness – dreams become reality.

Re-Shape the Surface

Windows open to clear the air gone stale
from months of breathing in and breathing out,
not taking time to smell more than morning
coffee and perhaps a piece of rye toast.

Roses, a brambled mass of thorn and bloom,
tug at her sleeve and pant cuff, scratch bare flesh
as the mower shaves strips from the tall grass;
re-shapes the surface of her outside world.

She has not picked up a paint brush beyond
roller and two-inch acrylic for walls.
Heart strings pulled and pushed down a zig-zag path,
emotions spills on paper – not canvas.

She writes her name in a layer of dust
then wipes it clean – rewriting her future.

June 14, 2009

Waiting for One More
A veil of mist hangs across eyelashes
and cheeks; caresses her top lip as a
lover’s tongue might – an enticement to keep
her eyes closed and savor the sensations
rippling through. This fog rises up from
her midnight dreams and the soft edge of sleep,
where she lingers, waiting for one more kiss,
one more touch before allowing the heat
of day to burn away the memory,
leaving her exposed – and wanting…needing.
Shifting into routine, away from him,
she walks the dog, sips coffee, and gazes
across the daylight hours into night
where she will visit him again in dream.

© Siobhan
June 12, 2009


Muted conversations drift through open
windows, chatter caught in forsythia
branches mingles with the radio
and dreams, waking her to overcast skies.
Dressed in shadows, she stands on the front porch,
hands wrapped around sunflowers – the coffee
strong, laced with light, warms her against the mist
of early hours when everything else
is quiet, save the robins who woke her.

Dog tags jangle, remind of the promised
walk; abandoning one solitude
for another, she drifts in the middle
– giving him free rein to make his own way
while keeping him close, afraid he, too, will
wander off, disappear in morning fog.

© Siobhan
June 3, 2009

Practice Makes Perfect

She is practicing
being alone.
Wrapped in a robe this morning,

soft cream with pink and red hearts,

she wanders to the coffee pot,
pours a cup of strength

with a generous dollop of lace.

Pausing before the myriad pictures
scattered on the refrigerator door,
her fingers trail across familiar faces;
she whispers good morning, love, and
have a wonderful day
to each.

Their smiles remain in place,
reflect a sense of power;
a seed she planted years before
you can do and be anything.

Positive energy renewed, she moves
about the room, reminding herself

the dog needs his walk;
you need to eat breakfast;
laundry – grocery store – bank…

Tomorrow, she thinks, tomorrow
perhaps I’ll leave
loneliness behind, finally
and reach alone

practice makes perfect.

© Siobhan
May 17, 2009