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Midnight Visitor

Each night, she longed for his arrival,

counting down the moments in her head.

Another sleepless night,

more dreams never dreamed.

 

As she lay in bed, waiting,

he marked his presence with his spindly beams.

They flooded through the windows,

reflected, and filled the room with his familiar glow.

The sounds of the night were the soundtrack

as shadows of leaves danced on the floor.

 

Tired eyes relaxed,

a sigh of relief exhaled.

She rose and tiptoed to the window,

eager to see him once again.

He cast his light upon her,

and embraced her with his electric hug.

 

In awe, she studied him closely

and wished she could touch him with her hands.

Tonight he shone round and full,

more brightly than she had ever recalled.

Mesmerized by the celestial magic,

she longed to understand his power.

 

Against the inky backdrop,

everything seemed to stand still.

She was lost in that moment,

and time ceased to exist.

 

He made her feel small,

a minute speck in the universe.

But in these moments,

she felt brave.

There was no more fear,

no more limits.

She could do anything,

and ideas swirled through her mind.

 

The hours ticked by,

but still he stayed.

Her welcomed friend,

her midnight visitor.

 

As his glow began to melt into the night,

she knew their time was drawing short.

So she tucked away his messages,

deep inside her heart.

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Weird Girl

Hey, blogosphere! I’ve missed you this week!

I’ve been crazy busy with my summertime pet-sitting schedule (and playing with my new Vitamix!! 🙂 ) and am just now getting a second to breathe.

Ahhh…

I didn’t have much time to work on any substantial posts this week, but here’s an original poem I’ve been working on. It describes the ways in which I view myself and I think some of you can relate to it on some level:

weird girl

Weird girl’s different

she’s complex

she’s strange.

Weird girl sees things differently

lives differently

thinks differently.

Weird girl’s fueled by her passions

and driven by her heart.

Weird girl’s a thinker

a dreamer

a doer.

Weird girl likes different things

she needs different things

she wants different things.

Weird girl is not always what she seems

but she’s always true to her soul.

Weird girl thirsts for knowledge

and helping

and experiencing.

Weird girl doesn’t always “get” the world

and sometimes, it doesn’t “get” her either.

Weird girl wants to change the world

she can

she will.

Weird girl wonders why there aren’t more like her

but then she realizes she’s glad there aren’t.

Weird girl is wonderful

and powerful

and smart.

Weird girl is beautifully,

perfectly,

me.


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Reconnecting With an Old Love

This guy was my first love…

ant and jena old pic

And my forever love. We’re married and working on the whole “growing old together” thing as I type. He’s not the “old love” I’m referring to.

The one I’m talking about looks more like this:

A while back, I came across this article on The Millions, which talks about the books that everyone should read (if they want to).

If you know me, you know I love to read, so of course, I found great interest in this article. I was particularly struck by the suggestion to reread the book that you loved in high school.

Hmmm…

I tried to remember the books I read in high school, but I had trouble recalling any that had really stuck with me.

Anything by Shakespeare: no thanks.

The Scarlet Letter: gag!

The Old Man and the Sea: bo-ring.

The Catcher in the Rye: eh.

I did, however, remember that in elementary school, I adored Shel Silverstein‘s poetry. In fact, all of us kiddos did. There were several copies of each of his titles in our school library and there was always a long waiting list to check them out. I remember signing my name on that little cardstock check out card in the back of the book as often as my name came up on the list — about two or three times throughout the school year — and reading through each and every poem. I thought his words were magical and his illustrations funny, but I’ll admit that I was a little freaked out by the photos of Shel on the backs of the books!

shel siverstein

Kind of scary, right?! He looks so mean and grumpy!

So, one day while I was aimlessly wandering through the aisles at Barnes & Noble, like I oftentimes do, I headed over to the children’s section and picked myself up a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends. From the moment I opened up the first page, all these feelings came rushing back to me and I was transformed into an 8-year old again, giddy about having my favorite book in hand. Ahhh… the memories!! The ugly orange carpet, the nooks and crannies where I would read and the glorious smell of books that filled my school’s library.

It was interesting to read these poems again from the perspective of someone with another two decades of life experience under her belt. Many of the poems I wasn’t so fond of as a kid now hold much greater meaning. I guess that’s the magic of reading (and aging), though, right?

Here’s my new fave:

 

Wise words, Mr. Silverstein. Wise words!

I’ll definitely be adding more of Mr. Silverstein’s books to my collection, but for now, I’m having fun walking down memory lane as I read through the pages of Sidewalk.

What was your favorite childhood book? You should reread it and see if your feelings about it have changed! Anyone else a Shel Silverstein fan?