November Lace

Rene Foran
It was nearly 90 degrees
in that cozy little kitchen
the smell of home cooking
had attached itself to every molecule
of every acrylic holiday sweater
her every effort to help prepare the feast
was waved off and redirected
to the family room
where a stony silent
football viewing Mt Rushmore
occupied the couch,
a loveseat and three folding chairs
so she wandered down 
to the basement
where she was years removed from the circle
and miles behind the conversation
so she drifted along searching
where was her world?
where was her piece?
where did she belong?
she slipped away 
from the fray unnoticed
up to her childhood room
through the bedroom window
and onto the rooftop poetic:

” she sat arms hugging knees
surveying life, the leafless trees
spindly branches claw the sky
scratching for sun, to heaven they cry
psalms of wisdom, strength and grace
woven in November lace”

the air felt good against her flushed cheeks
and a beautiful sunset was now in progress
she was thankful for this
she was thankful for finding her peace
she belonged right here, right now
to this moment.

Peace ~ Rene

Happy Thanksgiving and a joyous, peaceful Holiday season to all.
May your cup runneth over…

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42 thoughts on “November Lace

  1. Rene, I can't even tell you…this took my breath away. I was the youngest in my family by nine years and the only girl. My mother didn't allow any help in her kitchen, and the stony silent Mt Rushmore of football watchers soooo took me back. Left to my own devises, I made up my own worlds that were not so stark as the one I found myself in. I had two puppets I was particularly fond of–two horses my grandmother had made me, that I named Barn Boy and Pretty Horse Puppet. They had lots of conversations and adventures. Your poem brought my childhood back to me so strongly. I never went out on the roof, though. I flew in my imagination. Still do.Thanks for this. (btw, I had been wondering lately, where's Rene?)

  2. Easy to be overwhelmed by others amid all the preprogrammed behavior.I'm too old to have that Mt Rushmore of football watchers around anymore, or anyone to cook for me, but I can't say I miss it one bit. Thanks for sharing these memories.

  3. So nostalgic and beautiful…"psalms of wisdom, strength and gracewoven in November lace" loved these lines.. dreamy and very well written!! Such a lovely poem, Rene!

  4. So you found your 'place' is wherever you are. Wisdom came to you at that moment. But I must admit, I laughed at "Mt Rushmoreoccupied the couch". I can just see the grumpy old man who was never allowed to be part of the magic and now, like you, retreated into his own space. You may have had more in common than you thought!

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