Widowed Without A Manual

Some of us grieve longer then others. I will not be rushed out of my love, that still inhabits my heart.

swirling snow eases my mind

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Today I sit in the back room of the house. Pyjama top still on. Facial mask on my face. The sun shines off and on as the clouds travel east. Mom always wanted to me shovel the back porch but now I don’t. I like the simple lines that the snow drifts create.

I feel as if I am sitting on a bus by the window with no one else on it not even a driver, yet the bus is traveling. I look out onto the houses and open yards and street lights, store fronts. There are no people. My mind wonders and I look up to the advertisements. My thinking is all over the place. The sun is again shadowed and I can feel the coolness of the air on my arms.

I have somehow managed to fill this house with ‘stuff’. All kinds of things that have no organized method. This house is me! This house represents my mind. The sun and furnace both kick in and one arms feels warmth while the second that is shadowed feels cool.

In front of me is a mission copy of a side table that I pulled from my bedside. on it is a hand mad sweater for a baby from Ireland. It represents one of the visits i backed out on this christmas season. Next to it is a miniature chest of drawers with a primary white coat of paint on it. It was to go with one of my sculptures. Yes, the show that has been cancelled. Cancelled may be the wrong word for he says it never was pencilled in.

The sun is so bright my eyes reflectively close and a wonderful bright orange/red/yellow veil fills them. Then again its gone.

I had a dream that  there were four beautiful young men for me to chose to marry. I picked the most beautiful and the wealthiest. Then everyone set up the wedding rooms with candles on some tables and lamps on others. Everyone seemed happy, even the ones I did not pick. We all    enjoyed the party then I woke. What a strange dream.

My mask should be ready to wash off now. I will put makeup on to attempt to look ok for I am hopefully getting my passport photo done today.

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Author: ilovecloudstoo

I live in Canada though​ I was not born here. Newfoundland is where my heart breathes. Primarily I am a visual artist, welded and or cast bronze sculptures. Sylvia Plath may have been the seed planted in me that is creating poetry. Since then I have read so many great modern poets work. Art is my sustaining business poetry sustains my soul.

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