Monday, January 18, 2016

Monday WRites 44

I watch her fly her bubbles in the backyard

Light and its lightness captured in spaces diaphanous

I drew a picture once, on a postcard

And held a thousand memories in a rosebud sensuous

She, is my grandchild, child of my son

He of my husband, this son of mine, one

So she lets fly her bubbles, this child of my heart

While i hold on to my memories, and we both revel in delight
BUBBLES © gillena cox 2016

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #44, ❧✿❧ ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

Back Linking to
Sunday Mini-Challenge Flying From Orlando to Picasso
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads


  1. There are such sweet parallels here, and keeping hold of memories is very like keeping hold of these light diaphanous bubbles, there and fleeting and back again too. Very sweet poem, Gillena. k.

  2. I like the way each line unravels the story of family.

  3. Nice word pictures, Gillena. Good "been there" reading for all us grandparents. We have six and two greats.
    Wondering (I do 'wonder about more than just tall girls) if you read some E. E. Cummings before you wrote this. I did fir mine.

  4. I too, did follow the e e cummings. I did read some of them. Thanks for dropping in Jim

    Much love...

  5. You and I share these lovely thoughts and emotions ....

  6. Such sweet memories are being made. It's wonderful when the different generations can spend time together like this.

  7. Awe. I can see why she inspires such words...