A Collection of Heartfelt Words From East Texas Writers
Bearing All Things
By Carol Thompson
You missed the blooming of the gardenia.
After all the potting and tending,
you left too soon to see.
You missed my lonesome listening to those songs,
my spirit still, unable to keep time.
You left too soon to hear.
You missed finishing off together
that sweetly fragranced muscadine wine.
You left too soon to savor.
You missed the calamitous Day of Vanishing
of the cherished velvet-furred Miss Kitty Cat.
You left too soon to touch.
You missed my almost-successful attempts
at your flaky pastry and spicy warm winter soup.
You left too soon to relish.
You missed the blooming of the gardenia.
After all the potting and tending,
you left me alone to live.
Bluegrass
By Regan Minkel
I keep dreaming our house swallows soul potatoes and is okay
that our minds go home together
that our fake dreams break into godlike forgiveness and wiseness of wa
that my body lights candles and keeps youth fenced in
that the moon wets the streets when you drive us
that the red lights keep stopping us.
The Bayou
By Regan Minkel
I took the inside of myself that was trying to get to the outside myself and handed it over to the fleshy Louisiana bayou where bony root systems exploded into the water like stars, shooting from black alligator Seussian, black goo water
skinny trees, charred toothpicks
her muscle toned swamp
lily pads, knobby knees,
her spanish moss
molten emerald
the boot-smashed Modelo cans we threw in your green canoe
On the way back to camp we carved the wax water with black paddles
you fiddled with the electric motor
the dog tried to eat the brown water
I kept going on and on about how the loblollies were so pink and wet,
the upside-down sunset,
how those two fishermen blinked like babies
when they saw us
The Waltz
By Toni Stratton
I watched the dancers swirl around the dance floor to the music in perfect step.
I caught a glimpse of you sitting across the room at a table close to the band.
Maybe you would ask me to dance this next dance; a slow waltz, my favorite.
You rose from your chair and walked in my direction as your eyes met mine.
I could feel my heart start to pound against my chest and nervously bit my lip.
I knew it was right from the moment you reached out and took my hand in yours.
We moved to the music as if we had been dancing together all of our lives.
I watched other dancers around us with exchanges of warm smiles and hellos.
This dance was different, as if it was the beginning of a book of a long love story.
When the song ended, you led me back to my table with your hand in mine.
I could feel your strength and gentleness stirring in my heart and calming my soul.
Your hand rested on mine and I could feel that this was the beginning of forever.
The day you proposed, you knelt down and reached out to hold my trembling hand.
I could feel my heart start to pound against my chest and nervously bit my lip.
Your eyes reassured me, your voice calmed me and your hand secured my answer.
When we said our vows, your smile reassured me as we held each other’s hands.
I could feel my heart start to pound against my chest and nervously bit my lip.
Your gentleness strengthened me, your soul whispered to mine that we were one.
When our children were born, your hand gripped mine and you never let go.
I could feel my heart start to pound against my chest and nervously bit my lip.
I wanted all that life had to offer, the good, the bad; I never wanted our book to end.
When we grew old, you reached across the bed to hold my frail and shaking hand.
I could feel my heart start to pound against my chest and nervously bit my lip.
We both knew that the final chapter had yet been written but soon it would be.
With your hand in mine, I could hear the music play from the first time we danced.
A slow waltz, like a summer breeze and the rhythm of two hearts beating together
I looked through the chapters of our book and saw nothing less than sheer perfection.
With your hand in mine, holding on tight, forever dancing to the waltz of our lives.
