THE MANTLE

THE MANTLE

Write, my friend, write
Let your heart pour forth,
with honesty tell your truth.

May your words always be interspersed
with threads of gold,
weaving life, shining into your thoughts.

Into your woven cloth.

With silver moon beams,
Do the same
let them shimmer in dark corners,
lighten your mind.

These threads of gold and silver rays
Represent love and hope;
Without, your cloth will dull and die.

Once created, keep it as your mantle,
Your blanket;
So you will never forget,

The importance of light

© miriam ivarson

Full circle of life

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Full circle of life

Moon beams on her silver hair
brought an unearthly shine,
I stared at her soft chignon;
Felt love, and longing to have the same.

I was young, my hair touched by the sun
I didn’t realise that was exquisite too.
My longing was for Grandma’s moon beams
as I basked in her twinkling smile.

We sat on the balcony overlooking the sea,
with cake, coffee and milk for me,
watching the magic sea
where the moon lit a white, silver street;

White like my Grandma’s hair, Both shimmering.

She listened with love and interest
to my worries and joys, about friends,
about what all meant.

She told me stories from a life well lived
about her Ivar, the love of her life.
So many fun anecdotes and tears in her eyes.

We went to stand in front of his big portrait
He was like no other man, she said.

Wonder if the day will come,
when my sun-kissed hair gets eclipsed
by the moon beams of silvery white.

© miriam ivarson