November Notes Day 26 is the song “I’m Confessin’ ” by Liz Wright. I’m combining the prompt with Paul Scribbles #dVerse Poet’s Pub Prompt on the Word grace.
Credit: Cristian Newman via a Unsplash
“I’m Confessin'” by Liz Wright
Love is my confession, do you love me too?
I’m confessing I need you, even when I lie.
Honestly, I love you, everyday I do.
It’s hard, I’m not prone to feelings, I don’t cry —
But each moment you’re gone away a tear slips —
Falls down my cheek; I sigh at the offending eye.
In your strange oceanic orbs I fall, drift —
Into bliss, I long for your sweet velvet lips,
So, grace me the truth, love with more than a kiss.
Everything about you, your smile, your chin’s slight dip —
Makes me alive; longing to be close to your skin,
To exist in words of love, my heart leaps, dives, and flips.
Whenever you’re near, your words of love are sin,
I don’t know if I’m dreaming — feeling so misplaced.
Tell me exactly, all your love confessions.
Don’t leave me lost, let me know your graciousness;
Honestly, I love you — say it too, don’t lie,
Keep loving me for all time, graceful choose faith–
Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting the #3LineTales prompt. Love this week’s photo too’!
——–
Credit: Sam Burriss via UnSplash
——–
Hair magnificent sunshine, feet bare,
Coral-pink painted,
Pointing-toes, elegance, and freedom.
——–
Circles, twists, hip- dips, feisty;
She dances unapologetically.
Concerto of hip-hop dance beats.
——-
Eyes shimmer in Shamrock, *pliés,
Graceful before challenging —
Him; with tennis racket — ball smarts.
——-
* “Pliés” [plee-ays] — “a bending of the knees outward by a ballet dancer with the back held straight” (Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, n.d. Web. 14 July 2017).
My Mother walked out of her room in heels. She was wearing her soft teal wool coat she only wore when she was dressed up to go out with my Dad. Behind her the scent of floral and baby powder drifted. I knew her perfume came from a glass pearlized owl which sat on her dresser.
The owl’s sculpted feather could be felt when I held him, but it was his glittering crystal eyes that fascinated me the most. They hinted at the mystery of being grown-up and of an elegance my Mother carried herself with.
Before she went out, my mother reached down to hug me and I was engulfed by her perfumey scent. Her soft long teal coat would brush my face. My Mom’s teal coat was a piece of clothing she only wore on a date or special occasion. Her small curvy figure was hugged by this tailored jacket. It gave my Mom, a woman who dressed in leggings, t-shirt, and sweatpants at home, a classic and graceful quality.
My favourite aspect of this coat was the ruffle that went down the front edge of the coat flaring and fluttering out. The ruffle was pretty. Something splendid and beautiful to a little girl. The ruffle made this coat a fashion statement. It was a coat Barbie would have gracefully worn if Barbie was a petite 5’2″ woman. The belt of the coat synched my mother’s small waist in and the bottom of the coat floated around her.
I dreamed I would inherit the coat one day as a small girl. But my mom donated the coat to Goodwill in the early 2000’s. They style, however, came back ‘ in’ again soon after. Mom wouldn’t have fit the coat anymore at the time, but probably would now as she lost weight a few years back. I know the coat would look as stunning on her now as it did back in the early 1990’s.
Mom’s teal coat was a piece of beauty. Together with the scent of flowers and baby powder, it cast my mother in this ethereal light where she appeared as if she were an angel. She would leave for the night and the babysitter would arrive, some student from my Dad’s High School where he taught, and I would feel utterly bereft without my Mom.
She was an angel dressed-up, somehow, not my usual Mother. She wasn’t the woman who yelled at me to pick up my toys, but a figure of elegance which illuminated the glow of a woman in her prime. A young woman who for one night left her children at home and was able to be a girl, to be free.
You must be logged in to post a comment.