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  • Poetic Possibilities or Just Love

    On this day, Mother's Day, I made a date... a date that I was unable to keep. Never in my life was I to be found guilty of being a no-show for a date until today. I feel slight remorse, but only if I stop and give it the least bit of thought. The dishes have piled high, the laundry; oh well. And I am certain that I have not run a comb through my hair; did I brush my teeth? Honestly; why would I? Oh, this crazy thing called love-turned -love-affair. What is to be done with something so fantastic that it causes life to run amuck? To let these feelings, this emotion roam helter-skelter; to turn loose these feelings of complete euphoria; the anticipation; the not knowing from one bliss-filled moment to the next how these thoughts will lay out. Alright, so I made a date; so I'm a no show! Damn the weeds of May anyway! It's not like they're going anywhere. It's not like they won't be there tomorrow or the next day or the next; right? It's not like I'm to be held personally responsible for the April showers for crying out loud! Weeds; they have an agenda of total take-over; it's what they do. I admit; there is no excuse for my actions; I confess I stood them up; all of them. There will certainly be a price to pay; I'm doomed, I know. But this is what happens when you finally find true love; you taste, you crave; it takes control, you have no voice; it commands all of your thought process. It's a spell and you've been cast. You find that your knees no longer support your weight; there is no way to free yourself; but why would you? You just simply prop yourself up on your pillows and succumb to the billion word possibilities.

    Pamela Wilonski
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