Childlike Sense of Wonder

Poem About Child Growing Up
Unfurling Sword Fern
Wake up, sleepy head.

With sun-kissed tousled hair
and moonlight still in your eyes;
Plant your feet and stretch your arms,
there’s no need for a guise.

Greet the day with wonder
and question what you see.
Explore the world with a mind
that flows with curiosity.

Dirty your hands and face
and collect scrapes on your knees.
Your feet are made for getting wet
and for climbing trees.

The broken paths you come across
will take you on an uncharted course.
But everything is lined with silver,
so don’t cake yourself in remorse.

When evening sends you back home,
be sure not to be remiss along the way.
You can tell me of your adventures
and of any gifts from the day.

Now, wash the earth from your brow
and come huddle under my wing.
I’ll kiss your closed eyes
and weave songs to sing.

Goodnight, my sleepy head.

Cure for a Broken Heart

Fiction About Broken Hearts
Bleeding Hearts
Bree swept the broken pieces of her heart on the floor into a dustpan. She took it to the kitchen table where she made a feeble attempt to fit the pieces back together, but it was of no use. Bree slumped into the kitchen chair and hung her head as a dam burst and a flood of tears gushed down her cheeks. Freya, a white cat with a splosh of gray painted along her back, came to join her.

Bree scratched Freya’s chin. “How had it been so easy for him,” she wondered aloud between sobs. “How could it be so easy to love someone one day and then someone else the next? How did he forget about me so easily?” Bree looked out the window, the front of her pink dress soaked and mottled with tears. “I tried to forget him,” she continued, “I tried to wash away the memory of him by using the hands of another man, but all it did was make me realize how empty I am inside. There’s nothing left.” She eyed her shattered heart still in the dustpan.

Freya rubbed her face against Bree’s hand. “Bree, you are not empty. Your heart may seem irreparable but I promise you, in time the pieces will find their way back together. You won’t even realize it as it’s happening. You’ll notice the colors of the sunrise, the fresh scent of spring flowers blooming, the song of the birds, and the glow of the moon. You’ll notice the beauty of these wonders and they will slowly mend your heart.”

Bree looked into Freya’s emerald eyes. “I want to believe you.” She wiped her face with a dry hem of her dress.

“Belief has nothing to do with it.” Freya placed a reassuring paw on Bree’s arm. “You will experience these things and then you will know.”

Freya nudged the dustpan with her nose. Bree carefully picked it up and poured the remains into a bag that she then slung over her shoulder.

She wore the bag every day and, as Freya said, each time she noticed the beauty around her and absorbed it into her soul, a piece of her heart mended itself until one day her bag was empty. On this day Bree held her hands to her chest and began to cry.

“Why do you cry?” Freya asked with a twitch of her tail.

“My heart is whole and I now know the secret that I was blind to before.”

“What is the secret?”

“I only ever needed someone to love me because I did not love myself. But now, now I know what real love is.”

Freya smiled and nodded.

Bree tossed the empty bag onto the floor. She whisked past Freya out the door, her arms open and ready embrace to the world.

Meet Me There

Poem About Weeds

Say goodnight to waking life
and meet me in the place between awake and dreaming.

I’ll wear the skirt
that twirls like a tornado
as we spin tall tales
and dance our way to madness.

We’ll plunge down the rabbit hole,
whispering sweet melodies
that drown me in a blessed rapture.

No longer caring where one song ends
and another begins –
free from time and space.

Alone in the world,
just you and I.
Please;
let’s never leave.

Dream of me as I dream of you
in the place between awake and dreaming.