A memory of red

       All things fall down to one glimpse. One little
trickle of a memory that leads to tears. Whether they
are happy or sad tears the spirit does not let on. Only
the joy of releasing whatever was there in a slide
of water down pale cheeks.

       Stepping outside. Lingering a little longer only
to inhale and sigh. Placing fingers on the doorframe
and leaning head against as well as thought in deep
thought. Ah the flashes of smiles and laughter that
play over and over.

        Funny how a cold night brings chills of red fleece
and pale blue eyes to sharp attention. Still whew. A
walk would be nice right now. Just need. Oh Jehovah.

        Standing back inside apartment. Seated and
breathing in slightly calming "breathing" techiniques.
I pray. Still the flashes arrive. Careful how I allow
myself to absorb them. No need to understand any
"meanings" because I have Jehovah. I hope.

        Releasing more sighs as the night progresses
and the red remarks fade. Distancing mind from
all that was crossed out. Soon sensibility is once
again attainable. The memories locked away for
the cynical woman to tear apart another day. Just
in no mood to be bitter.

      All I want is hope to warm me. Joy to fill me.
Love to welcome me. Smiles to laugh at me. Arms
to hold me.

     Ah how comical, still, is all this sentiment. As
my father used to say many a times to me, "it is good
to want things."

      Yes it is. Sitting here I have a lonely tear that
releases from my right eye. Drifting down a pale,
freckled cheek. Still I hope. Still I dream.

      Nothing wrong in those aspirations, correct?
A sniffle silenced. I walk to sink. Splash water over
face and become mellow. Hmm. Yes. I thank
Jehovah for that memory of red.