Who’s your first love the girls ask me
Music, said I
The boy isn’t worth the mention
I cringe at the memory
How pathetically stupid I was
But the sweet sound of music
Has always been there for me
It gives me wings to fly
To soar at the peak of a high note
When I feel lost and deprived of joy
It gives me hope with every beat
Truth be told,
Air drumming has prevented shiners
The hot chocolate blend
I’ve been searching for
All this time.
In my garden,
The sparrow-man to my fairy.
The sprinkles on top
A bad day.
The sparkle in my eyes.
The blanket and a bowl of soup,
In foul weather and bad times.
Within the pages of the book, now
I see the world the ink paints me
Oh that such wonders exist
Great dragons, magic, sprites
Love, war, peace, loss
“Come,” they call
© Devina S.
This morning I hadn’t much sleep, but unlike most this was with good reason. My grandma wasn’t feeling well and I got up to test her sugar and pressure a couple times. She took her pills. I worry about her. I followed her to the washroom least she falls and hit herself again. She insisted on going with my father to the city, ordering my mother and I not to tell him anything. I usually do tell him, but I suspect if I did today she’d end up getting mad at me and stressing her tired heart even more. I love my grandma dearly.
I’m always told that I’m her favourite, and I always smile because I could see that I was. For the most part of my eighteen years I slept by her side and as each year sprints away I wonder how much longer do we have with her. Well, her and my granda. I wouldn’t handle it well at all should something happen to them, and I hate to say this to sound biased, especially her. That woman is the most hard working person, next to my dad, who I had the honor to know, I would cry if I were to recount what the both of them have been through. My parents will be around for a while yet but I hope to God that I get to squeeze as much time with them.
I set my phone to wake her up a 2:30 AM. I got up again at five, opened my favourite window and cloud gazed. Mornings are for … I forgot this already, let me try … Mornings are for positive thoughts and good energy. Think about it; they aren’t there just to look pretty (if the weather feels fine), it has a purpose and if you look hard enough and far enough you’ll see it.
He carries a whiff of diesel
Denim smeared, greasy to the touch
Beads of sweat cool on his sun baked face
Good shirts come home from the fields
With soft frayed holes and a scent of green
A sure thing to send Ma’s ire up
Added to the broken saucer and cup
The raggedy man,
A listener, a speaker,
She’s just a girl
Never been in love
So badly wants to feel its embrace
But what lies in her chest
Is a heart hardened by the tales and
Thoughts of heartbreak and heartache
Not naive as to think that a prince will
Find her someday, somewhere
And have a happily ever after
For she knows the world doesn’t work that way
All she does is dream from a distance
And hopes her forever-love comes her way
© Devina S.
I had originally posted this on Poet’s Corner.
Picture Via thoughtsofalonelyblogger.blogspot.com
Goodreads - Simply Amazing
Goodreads is one amazing site. If you haven't checked it out yet, you should go do so now. Its is absolutely amazing. It lets you create your own profile, on which you can add friends, books you're reading, books you're wanting to read, books you've read, and so much more.
Not only can you add everything about the books you want/read/reading, you can also add your favorite genres and authors.
To ask for love in the hope it is granted..Is to ask for something without proof of existence..Love has no expectations..It is given freely without thought..without hesitation..It is something that exists before you even realize it..