The morning we planted those wildflower seeds,
sprinkling them between stones and crevices
and old pots weary with age, we whispered words
of encouragement and gentle blessings.

We held our breath during fierce storms, the ones
that sent us reeling with each lightning strike and
those that howled with troubled winds.
We hoped our tender seeds were safe from harm.

We waited as a fiery sun bathed each spot with
warmth and energy, the air thick with heat and humidity,
and hoped it was not too much for the life sprouting
just beneath the surface.

Sometimes the spray from the hose provided relief
or even laughter as we squirted one another with cool water.
Sometimes the idea of what was to become —
beauty, wild and unadorned, sustained us through darker days.

We celebrated as each new flower revealed itself,
small blossoms exploding with color and personality.
Creations made of…

I posted this poem yesterday evening, I’m republishing today, without the ‘Links/Pingbacks’…  and I’m adding another old ‘Bee Gees’ song “Words”, which seems to be appropriate for my poem here, which basically, is only ‘words’ from my pondering thoughts.

Our World, Air For Us All

What grows up

Eternally falls to ground

What’s absorbed in

Eventually seeps out

Did you hear the sound?

The world is round

But is the universe a square?

As we struggle to breathe in our share

Did you hear there’s enough air for us all?

So why cry before we’ve learnt how to crawl?

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Four years ago we had just celebrated my grandfather’s last birthday and my heart was shattered. Losing him was like losing an entire lifetime of love and safety. Even though I didn’t know it back then there were so many stories and emotions in me that needed an outlet. I felt that my grief would come out better in writing, because there was so much I couldn’t say out loud. It was a scary experience but my imagination took me far and my short story slowly became a novel.

I?m extremely grateful to the people who have kept me going when I was freaking out or even when my words never made sense. Your advice is planted so deeply into my heart that I unpack them and use them whenever I feel low. Your encouraging comments are the fuel that keep me going and whatever happens I?ll forever be grateful…

Empty Desks

Crowded bins

Stacked with papers

Never returned

Empty Chairs

Silent Room

Filled with voices

Of the past.

When school let out for #COVID we all truly thought we would come back before the end of the school year… This was something I wrote when I accepted that was not going to happen.

©KaylaAnnAuthor2020

© KaylaAnn and KaylaAnnAuthor.wordpress.com, 2020. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to KaylaAnn and KaylaAnnAuthor.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

How can I adequately describe what love is?

Is it the way that my heart still beats faster when you come home

Is it the way my mind goes straight to you when I have something to share

How can I possibly demonstrate how love acts?

Is it the way we make dinners together, sharing in the work and the fun

Is it the way we choose each other every day over anyone else

How could I satisfactorily explain what love endures?

Is it the way you hold me at night when the crying won’t stop

Or is it the way we hold on to each other when the world falls apart

How can I abundantly illustrate the way in which I love you?

I could write a thousand words, edit, erase, re-write as I have today

It still would never be enough.

Happy One Year of Marriage, my love…