time

Time to choose

~ ~M ~ 40 Comments

My mind draws a blank
as the new year looms;
what will happen,
I can only assume.

I’ve a mixed bag of emotions
sitting on my lap;
if some of them spill out,
I might just snap.

I know there is so much good
about to unfold,
so I keep looking at the ground
and do as I’m told.

Don’t question the process,
is what my thoughts say;
eventually, this wary feeling
will start to go away.

But with nobody to talk to,
my mind is in a haze;
still, I try to prepare
for this new life phase.

I’ve got nothing to lose
but everything to gain,
and saying goodbye to the past
will help me stay sane.

So, goodbye, I say
to another mixed year.
Freedom awaits;
the odds are very clear.

I’m adjusting my sails,
waiting for the wind
to prepare my course,
and then descend.

I pray for transformation
even though I don’t pray
and, hopefully, a shift
will come my way.

Clearing the dust,
looking for new views,
now’s the perfect time
for me to choose.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

*The drawing is my own attempt at creating a mixed bag of emotions.  Fingers crossed that none of my emotions spill out over the coming year. 🙂 ~M xo

I live for the moments…

~ ~M ~ 21 Comments

I live for the moments,
the rare ones with you,
sacred and special,
even though they are few.
And I hold on to those times,
keep them close to my heart,
so whenever you leave,
we’re never really apart.

I live for the moments,
the days that we share,
living and loving
with your smile right there.
And I’ll never stop wanting
to keep you close by my side;
the best times in life
are when we collide.

I live for the moments,
the times we’re alone;
we may not get them often,
but you are my home.
And I love you more
with every year that goes by,
you’re the reason I live
and the reason I sigh.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/love-couple-family-sweethearts-2055372/

She rests…

~ ~M ~ 15 Comments

She rests along the horizon,
easily seen from the thirsty shore,
and with a face like an angel,
she could never be ignored.

Her body is ever-changing
as she basks in the summer sun,
and her golden peaks glisten
while her vistas promise fun.

She lays in silent stillness;
never a tremor does she sigh.
The world tramples upon her,
though she never questions why.

She often cries a flood of tears;
still, her strength does prevail,
and even though she’s antiquated,
her beauty never fails.

Nestled comfortably in the earth,
she’s withstood the test of time,
and even though some mar her face,
she still beckons them to climb.

She’s served as a place of renewal
and become a much-needed haven;
she even shares her home
with all the raptors and the ravens.

Exquisite in her gilded grandeur,
layered with the etchings of the past,
her purpose is apparent,
and her glory was made to last.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Buttery biscuits

~ ~M ~ 25 Comments

Better than anything,
her cuteness makes me smile.

Underneath the maple tree,
we laugh for a very long while.

The next thing we both know,
the sun is nearing its stage to set.

Time seems like our enemy
when we realize that’s all we get.

End-of-day loveliness
stretches across the carnation sky.

Remembering the late hour,
still deferring the day’s goodbye.

Yesterday’s such as this
often leave a feeling of bittersweet.

But those memories, they fill us
on days when we’re incomplete.

Illusions of everlasting delight
remain cradled upon our chests.

So many things a mother suffers,
the losses are hard to digest.

Come what may we say in quiet,
as the years start to pass us by.

Until the end draws nearer
and we’re left with all the why’s.

It’s the not knowing that hurts the most;
the answers never found.

This life is never easy,
but we do our best to be around.

Silently we pass; still, nobody ever knows
all a mother suffers and endures
as they watch their babies grow.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/mother-child-family-daughter-girl-3793521/

Writing prompt: Buttery biscuits – given to me by my very sweet daughter, Autumn Rose.

Life, will I ever?

~ ~M ~ 25 Comments

Life,
it moves us along
at record speed.

I try to dangle
delicately,
occasionally letting
my feet scrape
against the ground.

And as I swing under
my beloved canopy,
I notice the poor old oak
has seen better days.

Brittle bark scatters
like tarnished snowflakes,
and the bough dips
against the weight
of my sways.

But do I stop?

No, I continue on
in careless destruction,
marring my protector
all while biding my time.

I’m still a child; after all,
I do not recognize
my mistakes;
will I ever?

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-swing-playground-trees-6722023/