**It took me ages. I know. Hopefully you'll like it enough to forgive me for making you wait so long...**

I pulled my hair into a long ponytail and rolled up my sleeves. Time to air out memories, pushing dark shades back. I brooked no funerals.

I only meant to dust them off, to tuck sweet-scented flowers in their folds and hang them up again, but the first one I pulled out I knew I had to wear.

I held it close. "Oh, I love this one," I whispered, the fabric of the memory, all it was made of, rubbing my cheek. Well-made memories like to greet you with a kiss and a warm embrace.

Did I read the stories wrong
Were all the old songs untrue
The tapestries woven, long and grand
Told endings that I thought would be
I didn't think that I would stumble
Or get lost within my feelings

Yet Love, dressed in her gown of red and white
Danced before my eyes, transfixing my gaze
Passion pushed me near her,
I took her hand in mine,
With her I danced for hours as the stars shined
Joy sweeping through me like a warm summer's breeze,
Nothing as sweet as when I kissed her soft cheek

“I love the writing life,” was the last sentence I wrote in my journal before I went to sleep last night. And it’s absolutely true – most of the time. Of course, if you flip back through the earlier pages of my journal, you’ll find at least three or four entries declaring my complete frustration and disgust with writing and everything pertaining thereunto. Those entries are absolutely true as well. Which made me start thinking: if I really love writing, why do I get so frustrated with it? If I really hate it, why do I devote so much time and energy to it?

It's okay to smile,
It's okay to laugh
even though the ones we love
from this life and world do pass

It's okay to dance
feeling music and joy,
even though we know that death
is something we can't avoid

It's okay to love
and give your heart away,
even though you know it might
be broken to pieces someday

It's okay to grin,
to be happy isn't wrong,
even though the ones we love
from our sides have now gone

Chapter the Twenty-first

I like to smile, I like to laugh
I love to sing, dance, and craft
Wherever people grin you’ll see
That I am there—Joy is me!
I can be quiet, sad and full of sorrow
But mostly I keep looking to tomorrow
Where people are I’m bound to be
Keep looking around—Joy is me!

copyrighted by Magical Ink (magical-ink.blogspot.com)

Do you walk alone?
Have you no one to stand at your side?
Does no one love like their own?
Is life at the point that you just want to die?
Does no one listen to what you have to say?
Do they care, or believe in you?
Haven’t we all been there?
But is there really no one?
Are you sure you are alone?
For someone greater cares,
For you his greatest joy.
He is always there, no matter where.
He always listens, and believes.
He stands next to you,
Through the worst times.

For those wondering where this poem has gone, it is under consideration for publication in Rooted Living magazine until March 2011. I'll update this when I've received the final word.

Feel the sun
shine
on your face
warming you
filling this place
cold with dew
from a foggy night

Feel your legs
stretch
as you race
across the wide and
grassy space
rushing quickly
speeding forth

Feel the wind
pull
through your hair
dancing about you
telling its dare
whispering new
pushing forth

Feel your heart
skip
racing on
setting something
within you free
letting you see
into the day