Always Home

 

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Peering through the window now,

I think of our yesterdays.

I can see the kitchen table laid,

it was under there I played.

I can see you pottering all alone,

a smile upon your face.

Knowing that I’d soon be home,

to this very special place.

I can smell the distant memories,

cake and homemade jam.

Looking to my childhood home,

from where my life began.

If I travel the whole wide world,

or to other planets further.

You’ll always stand as home to me,

 you’ll always be my mother.

~

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

 

 

How I Savour You

 

A smell that once adorned you,

sweetness to your skin,

I dream and see your silhouette,

a tapered waist so thin.

The sparkles in your eyes,

in pools of the deepest blue.

These memories I keep nearby,

it is how I savour you.

The moments we had together,

the laughter and the pain.

I keep them with my treasures,

as they won’t come again.

With all my senses I remember,

in my dreams you visit too.

Flashes of you so close to me,

it is how I savour you.

~

Savor / Savour

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Traces of You

I trace my hand across the page

of that book you loved so much.

Trace my fingers through the lace,

of the scarf you used to touch.

Trace the outline of your face,

on the glass of the picture frame.

Trace my fingers through the mist,

as I’m still spelling out your name.

You left a trace, no so much more,

on that day when you left my side.

I trace a teardrop down my face,

it’s this grief that I just can’t hide.

~

Trace

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Manchester

I remember my first concert, special memories were made that night.

The children caught up in the terror attack in Manchester last night will carry very different memories and these memories will be carried throughout their lives. Some of these children will have been injured, some critically. Some would have witnessed death in the most devastating way, been carried or run from the building in absolute horror or found themselves in hospital. Families were split up, parents looking for children and children looking for their mums and dads, I think we all recogniser the horror of that. Some concert goers thought the noise was the loud bang of a balloon going off, there had been balloons in the show. Those that got away will always remember the day that death nearly stood next to them.

Concerts will never be the same, they will be full of memories, they will bring fear. As adults these children will not want to allow their own children the pleasures of attending a concert. Crowds will always hold a hidden threat, it could always happen again and this will be passed on through generations.

Memories were made last night, but not the memories they had hoped for. Some of these children will be traumatised for life, they will suffer terribly and their mental health will be damaged. The child that went to their first concert last night will carry that with them always, but not in the way they had hoped.

Love for the children caught up in the terror of Manchester last night, love for their families and anyone else that had loved ones caught up in the horror of the event. Love also for those that don’t understand me, may you never experience such devastating trauma yourself.

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Jolt of Love

It was with a jolt that I woke up,

although was I really I asleep.

Was it you that whispered my name,

 as so safe, so soft, so deep.

I cast my eyes into emptiness,

I’m silently calling your name.

Remembering you’ve gone away,

you’re not coming back again.

You linger here, I’m hanging on,

my mind is so full up of you.

But you’re elsewhere living life,

I’ve seen all the things you do.

I wish that we had worked it out,

that I could call you my man.

Sometimes in my day dreams,

I almost believe that I can.

I’m all alone without you now,

wondering if you think of me.

Are you in another dark room,

recalling how things used to be.

~

Daily Prompt – Jolt

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Packing Up

I’m surrounded by possessions, 

some of these say who I am.

I’m trying to cut them down a bit, 

but I’m not sure if I can.

These things all have their stories, 

they tell me who I was.

They speak of other owners too, 

that’s such a big because.

Some bits are just like memories, 

they bring a picture back.

The chair my mother later sat in, 

if that went I would crack.

The books that line the bookcase, 

not all of them are mine.

But the owners of these books, 

are now with the divine.

That they scanned those pages, 

while they were here awhile.

As I run my hand along the page,

it always makes me smile.

The china from my childhood, 

which I ate from when sick.

Remind me of that love I felt, 

which got me better quick.

All these things are talking now,

reminding me of days.

Memories of the hills I’ve climbed,

and those that went away.

So possessions are just pointless,

and what’s important is inside.

But these memories are so precious,

they’re so much more than tried.

My mother shared a rule with me,

to keep beautiful things around.

The trouble is I followed her word,

it’s a treasure trove I’ve found.

Now the time has come for me to move,

I now need to pack it away.

But packing up these things that talk,

is like packing my life away!

~

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017


Nature Lessons 213

A simple flower can touch the heart if observed, the delicate aroma and soft colours, a memory that might last forever. A flower might only last for a season, but it’s not the time that they are here for that matters it’s the difference they make to the lives of those whose hearts they touch. Life might not be forever but memories when stored and shared might well be.

~ Liza

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lizalizaskysaregrey©2017