"Treasured"

Treasured

My youngest still likes hugs and kisses,
not in public, but allowed behind closed doors.
Sometimes he forgets, holds my hand
as we walk sidewalk or street; almost brings me to tears.

Perhaps little boy sweetness lingers a bit longer,
as my girls flirted with independence
far too early.

Yet I've found a way to wrap myself around them -
carefully choose color and pattern,
piece and pin often past midnight,
prayerfully secure layers with flourishes of design ...

an heirloom perhaps, worn-out, treasured,
maybe bring tears to their eyes
knowing they are loved.

by Margaret Bednar, August 3, 2018

Linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads -Tuesday Platform"

"Beachside"

Beachside

I shake out the quilt, flip flops anchor corners,
and I'm beached for remainder of day;
cry of seagulls and sun upon my eyelids
an aphrodisiac I'm far too weak to fight.

May drag myself to water's edge mid-afternoon,
dip my toes, but full immersion's usually reserved for August.

Frolicking, chilly surf fazes not my children,
their chatter weaving in and out of my reverie
as they fill in, fill up pail after pail with water
for castle moat until waves rhreaten their creation;

even I, sun-drenched drunk, sigh deeply, heave myself up,
move our sandy outpost out of harms way,

glad lifeguards scan horizon and shoreline
for far more serious danger,
watch as seagull and shell garnishes are devoured
by ocean's surge and my children laugh it off,

run past my oasis, shroud me with sand.
I suppose my penance for being lazy.

by Margaret Bednar, July 31, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform"