Listening Experience

These eyes are like my children,

floating through my mind.

Births that were not painful,

just hours of trial and error,

blending colors,

lines,

realigned.

These eyes are burning holes through me,

begging me to make them breathe,

filling the walls with more than space,

their stories speak

and claim their place.

Here with me, they are home,

and inspire me to roam

through memories of another time,

tracing moments and days of

my life.

These eyes are with me

every morning

as the sun begins to rise.

They’re with me

as I close

the door

in the evening

and say good night.

The pups’ sweet stares

are right up there,

greeting me each day.

These eyes…

People say

I should be doing more

with my art.

I smile.

They say

I should paint weddings,

brides

and

grooms.

But that brings rules,

loss of freedom,

serenity,

the ability,

to wake each morning

and just,

be

me.

They don’t know

the secrets these paintings hold.

They don’t know

what they mean to me.

These eyes

that stare at me each day

are my company,

my sanity,

my therapy,

my pleasure,

and the quiet

I need

for inspiration

that arrives

as a surprise,

like quiet ghosts

slipping in

through the walls

of my quiet soul.

These eyes…

“Grandma, I love

that elephant mural

you painted for me.

I kiss it every day.

It makes me feel

so close to you,

even though you’re

far away.

That robin mother

in her empty nest,

standing over

empty, shattered eggs,

remembering babies

flown away.

I remember

feeling that way too,

and even now,

sometimes

still do.

The hot air balloon

drifting high

is a dream

I’ve always held.

Now resting on my wall,

that dream is kept

in my future

adventure,

wishing well.

And the painting

of that bride and groom

fills a soft-lit space

in my daughter’s home.

It makes me smile

each time I see it there.

I remember her beauty

as she walked

the mountain aisle

escorted by her dad.

It was the last

daddy-daughter

dance

they would ever have.

I’m at home at peace

with brush and pen.

I dream

and play

each day.

These eyes that stare

at me each day

are my peace and inspiration,

arriving as a surprise

like quiet ghosts

hanging on the painted

walls of my soul.

These Eyes.