Posted in Deep Water, just a scribble, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged Deep Water, eros, Love, memories, moon, passion, play, poem, Poetry, wistfulness, youth on December 30, 2019| 33 Comments »
.
It doesn’t seem
that long ago
you came
but could not stay.
.
Our paths were crossed
and time got lost –
seems only yesterday, and yet
.
the moon still beams
and waxes full
above the sea
beyond the knoll
.
where we grew young
so long ago
when Eros came to play.
.
.
© 2019 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(Just another entropic scribble. 🙂 )
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Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged crocus, Deep Water, February, hearts, Love, nature, poem, Poetry, rain, spring, Trees, wistfulness on February 11, 2015| 14 Comments »
.
.
Gray sky,
like Sunday’s paper
spreads
in starchy folds
across the morning,
driving rain
on unripe shadows
sprinkling clues
through birding trees.
And where the purple
crocus blooms
I find a stick
and draw wet hearts
in the earth.
.
.
(c) 1994, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
.
A re-post
.
(photo from Wikipedia)
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged beach, Deep Water, lost dream, Love, poem, Poetry, regret, train, wistfulness on August 28, 2014| 7 Comments »
She finds the old footprints,
follows them past mothers
with splashing children,
past men and dogs
chasing sticks in waves,
past the log
where he changed the lens
in his camera.
She follows them
to virgin beach
where shells aren’t broken
and shadows sleep wet
under rocks.
And there she sinks
into warm sand
and counts lost ships
Edmonds, Washington
circling in the strait.
Where has my Captain gone,
she wonders,
Where’s my compass now?
The Amtrak knows.
It rumbles south
with a woulda-coulda-shoulda
echoing down the track.
.
(c) 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged crocus, hearts, Love, Poetry, rain, Valentine, wistfulness on February 9, 2012| 30 Comments »
The sky,
Wikipedia
like Sunday’s paper
spreads
in starchy folds
across the morning,
driving rain
on unripe shadows,
splashing clues
through trees of birds.
And where the purple
crocus blooms
I find a stick –
and draw wet hearts
in the earth.
.
(c) 1994, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged Amtrak, beach, Lost love, Love, poem, Poetry, trains, wistfulness on September 6, 2011| 2 Comments »
She finds the old footprints,
follows them past mothers
with splashing children,
past men and dogs
chasing sticks in waves,
past the log
where he changed the lens
in his camera.
She follows them
to virgin beach
where shells aren’t broken
and shadows sleep wet
under rocks.
And there she sinks
into warm sand
and counts lost ships
Edmonds, Washington
circling in the strait.
Where has my Captain gone,
she wonders,
Where’s my compass now?
The Amtrak knows.
It rumbles south
with a woulda-coulda-shoulda
echoing down the track.
.
(c) 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
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Seasonings 