Mound View Cemetery – my happy place

Mound View Cemetery

Long have I walked among the stones

They taught me how to read

I rode my bike along the roads

With Daddy guiding me


He took me up to “Dirt Bomb Hill”

We played with clods of soil

He led us to the old oak tree

Where squirrels often toil


Some days rounding the last bend

Un-pocket chosen stones

Racing, kicking them along

While beneath lay silent bones


The yard was always peace to me

Until sweet Caroline

Baptized in holy water

Drank communion wine




Fall Semester Philosophy

Questions, questions, tell me why

Every day I see the sky.

Sometimes pink, most times blue,

But she won’t tell me what to do.

Rain, rain, never far,

Tell me of the sun, my star.

Does he know the hour when

I won’t be seeing him again?

Flower, flower, while you’re here

Sing to me a song I’ll hear

Through the night while I don’t sleep

Flower, tell me, will you speak?

Mirror, mirror, in the night

Who am I without the light?

When darkness creeps hard and cold

Tell me, will my soul grow old?



Mary and the Cane (Photo Prompt)

Last week, Kingdom Pen sent out an e-mail with a photo writing prompt encouraging writers to send in a 1-250 word piece inspired by the picture. The winner’s submission would be featured with the next photo prompt.


I won.

No money this time, but I won something else. I won the privilege of another person reading my work and enjoying it!

Now I would like to share this piece with you.

{I dedicate this piece to my Grandpa (Jim). Today, September 17th, would have been his 93rd birthday.}


She felt the curve of his cane with her well-worked fingers. She spun it. She twirled it remembering how he spun her out and swung her in. She remembered how they met at the dance.

Of all girls, Mary was sentenced to punch bowl duty. Not that she didn’t like punch but she liked to dance, and everybody who was anybody knew that the punch girl never got asked to dance.

The soldier boys gallivanted across the dance floor swooping up any partner who would take their hand. As the music began, Mary’s foot tapped along, itching to show off its stuff. She smiled as she filled glass after glass gazing at the spinning soldiers.

A young man, who must have been terribly thirsty, approached Mary’s table for the third time.

“May I?” He asked.

Mary smiled and lifted the punch ladle.

“No, I mean,” he took her hand. “May I have this dance?”

For the rest of the night, guests ladled their own punch.

Mary gripped the cane. Jimmy wouldn’t need it anymore. Mary tensed to stand, and her side fought back in pain. She squinted, stifling a shout; she didn’t want to frighten Jane.

Jane would make her lie down, take a drink, take a pill. Mary wanted to take a walk. She leaned onto Jimmy’s cane, steadying her side – the one with the rotting kidney. The one she had left.

Just a walk, she thought letting herself out the door.

Just a walk with Jimmy.

{This piece is not based on a true story.}