Muse

We walk together

She and I

Through the stream ribboned valleys

Past magical doorways

Framed by ivy

Cobalt blue paint peeling

Handles stiff from neglect

MotherVerse

Creativity emanating from the MotherVerse.

Playing with painted paper scraps in today’s Creative Time.

Broken parts of things lost
Between the floorboards of my mind

The playground sing-song,
Holiday cottage of yesteryear,
That checked shirt I wore,
Purple and black,
When I was eight

But wait
I’m not mourning girlhood
I’m dreaming myself into maturity

Growing into the one
I’m scared to become

Yet free now
To walk this path
To the gate
Of my medicine garden

Asking noone’s permission
To turn the key
But my own

seven assorted-color of chalks gray surface

Broken,
in places I cannot see.
Lost,
in spaces I cannot feel.

Where the river carves a gash
Through the road
So that none shall pass,
There is nothing to do
But sit on my arse.

I slip into those quiet places
Where broken parts meld and mend
And in lost-ness, I find a friend.