Perhaps it was a bit wrong For me to expect so much. Opening the cupboard, And expecting a full lunch.

Instead I have to go and buy More things to fill the shelves. I’ll take Daisy, maybe Pete We’ll pick things out ourselves.

And when we’re done, We’ll drive on back, And fill the shelves With the foods we lacked.

We’ll make dinner, then With pasta and bread. Before we put The kids to bed.

And once we’ve finished, All there is to do… We’ll curl up with hot cocoa And say “I love you.”

As spring approaches, The air gets warm, The birds chirp louder, And the first bloom appears.

It feels so familiar— The anticipation of spring— But the first bloom Misses your gaze.

She misses the way you Smile. She misses the way you Laugh.

She misses the way I Tell you To smell her… Forgetting you’ve told me you can’t.

The birds chirp Without audience, And the breeze goes Stagnant. Still.

The first bloom Whispers, “I miss you.” And I whisper, “Me too.”

I’ve been told To keep my balance, Walk the straight path, Follow the rules.

I’ve been told That a life well lived Is constant and steady. “Unpredictable” is for fools.

Yet “unpredictable” Makes life exciting And excitement Makes life worth living—

So why should I strive For consistency? Why should I desire Routine?

Let me dance in the rain, And speak my mind. Let me stay up all night Just to gaze at the stars.

Let me love someone For who they are, And let us go on picnics With expensive foods.

Let me name every ladybug And climb every tree And compliment every stranger And listen to every Beatles album.

Let me dance in the rain. And I shall do the same to you.

It happened too fast, one winter night. Suddenly you were gone.

None of us even got to say goodbye. Not before you were gone.

I miss you sometimes, well, more than that. But my happiness is not gone.

I see you in gardenias. I hear you in the Beatles. It’s like you aren’t gone.

But I can’t help from wishing. I can’t help the thoughts saying I wish you weren’t gone.

If wishes fell like rain Then certainly I’m a storm. Never ceasing, never easing In my constant downpour.

I wish for peace and love and joy They’re standard things, I know. But how could I be happy If others aren’t so?

I wish for more time with those lost A chance to say goodbye. I wish that they could comfort me When I remember them and cry.

I wish that days were longer And perhaps that nights were too. For the 24 hours in my day Go by much too soon.

I wish for sillier things, as well Like to know all the languages of the globe. Or for a private jet and a mansion, And maybe a satin robe…

I wish and wish and wish and wish To no avail, it’s true. But when it comes down to my biggest wish Well, my biggest wish is you.

Oh how I adore you, my willow tree.

Rooted firmly in the ground, never ceasing to stand tall. With your arms, long and graceful, reaching out as far as possible. Creating a shelter of shade beneath your leaves.

Your strong branches hold a rope swing that goes higher than any playground swing could. Your weak branches serve as crowns when we rip them off and tie them in circles to place gently on our heads.

And when fall arrives to steal your leaves, oh my dear I’ll still adore you. For your branches dressed in snow are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Graceful and delicate, your branches sway in the winter winds, creating a sight more majestic than any man-made thing.

Oh how I adore you, my sweet willow tree. May you never forget everything that you mean to me.

It used to be much easier to forgive Than to forget the pain caused. But now I’m old and, alas, My brain isn’t as it was.

So I’ve noticed now that I forget Long before I decide to forgive. And perhaps it is good, And perhaps it is bad,

And perhaps I should write things down, So I can go back to forgiving

Before I forget.

She used to look in the mirror and recognize her reflection. She saw her hair and her eyes and knew who she was.

But now she looks in the mirror and wonders what happened to the woman she knew. Still the same hair, still the same eyes—and yet she can’t seem to recognize herself when she passes by a mirror.

Perhaps it’s the lines on her forehead that make her look different. That remind her of past worry.

Or maybe it’s the slouch of her shoulders as they try to hold up too many burdens.

She supposes it could be the circles that underline her eyes, as well. The circles that tell stories of late nights and too much to do.

But anyone else that could see her, would know that the answer is all of that and more.

Because it’s also the lines decorating the corners of her eyes—lines of laughter and stories told.

It’s also the compassion in her eyes when she says she understands—because she does understand. More than anyone else, she understands.

And as her fingers, nimble with experience, reach up to touch her own cheek, she looks in the mirror for the last time and she finally—

—finally—

—recognizes who she is.

He once knew a girl named Dakota.

She was rash—startlingly so. Like the sun piercing through the curtains while you’re trying to sleep. She was never known to tell a lie, in fact, it probably wasn’t possible. Brutally honest comments under her breath were most often heard by the people around her—people who would have to bite their tongue to keep from snickering at her words.

She was foolish, too. At least that’s what her teachers would have said. Spontaneity never seemed to go over well with adults. Written off as irresponsibility and foolishness, her impulsive nature always earned her disapproving looks.

Her smile, however, was the opposite. It wasn’t harsh or startling. It was warm. Like the sun filtering through curtains, waking you up slowly for you to greet the morning. Everyone around her felt welcome—and perhaps that’s the only trait that mattered.

Void of all instincts, new to the world—the kitten stretches its paws, reaching to things she doesn’t recognize but wants to learn about. She blinks—once, twice—and makes a small noise of contentment as she curls into the blanket surrounding her. Tomorrow she’ll explore the house. Meet new people, learn new things. But for today…she rests. Snuggled in the arms of a child in awe, she has no idea of the joy she brings. No idea of the memories that lie ahead. No idea of the family that will love her and care for her unconditionally. Forever.