Winter’s Hold

I see the appendage of a tree, stripped bare like bones ravaged by natures scavengers. I see the rock, ancient, towering and monumental. It is grey synonymous with the old. I see death, sadness and forlorn without hope. Much like the faces of those looking out from within. The land is gripped in Winter’s hold. It is cold and foreboding. All recoiling from her icy touch.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Getting back into things

I wanted to write a little piece, just to see if anything would form in this supposed creative mind of mine, see if I was still able to make words flow and ebb like calm gentle waters over the minds of those reading.

I call this ‘Drifting into Seperation’

Two ships under a crescent moon, slowly parting upon opposing tides. Communications languish, until eventually all connections are terminally disconnected. Relationship ebbing away, like water through open fingers. Tears become now your passengers, and all your smiles have abandoned ship.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Relationship Ideals

The front door opened where a tired an weary female came in from the cold outside. She was greeted with a cozy blanket that had been warming on the radiator, put there for her arrival. It was being held by the smiling face of her husband.

Wrapping it around her, he led her to the sofa where he began removing her shoes so as to rub her aching feet. The room was full of the scent of an evening meal, almost ready, cooking in the oven. A glass of wine already poured, waiting on the table and the sound of running water for the bath he’d readied for her return.

These are the things I believe a partner wants from a relationship, not coming home to x-box and the prospect of then having to choose and cook tea. I might be wrong.

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Worry

Every second of every minute, that makes up the hours of my day are spent in worry and fear for the safety and well being of my children, my family and my future wife. I worry if they’re happy, do they have enough to grow and flourish. As a son, I worry about my elders. As a parent I worry about my children and those of my partner. As a future husband I worry about whether I can offer the kind of life my sweetheart so richly deserves. And of course I’ve been blessed with being introduced to grandchildren, so it’s my duty to worry about them too.

It’s all too easy to gift the younger generations all the things you yourself missed out on growing up, toys video games and designer clothes. But one thing my parents always taught me, more valuable than any material possession, was to create memories. Toys break, video games grow old and clothes fade. Memories are the things you take to the grave.

So yes I worry. I think I earned the right to worry. So much of last year and the beginning of this have been lost, and yet I’ll always remember April 2020 as the date I found love, was welcomed into a new family and a new reason to make memories. July 2021 I become the dad of an 18 year old. Dates keep coming, and become more important and significant with each one. Not one though, makes me worry any less.

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Angel of Night

I dreamed of you again last night
You seem to come to me now more than ever
I felt the embrace of your loving arms
Your sweet tender kiss upon my cheek
And yet you made no move
Save to hold close to your heaving bosom

You hushed me back to sleep
Your fingers running through my hair
But I could feel your tears of sorrow
As they landed upon my skin
And I know you hate for me to see you
So I closed my eyes and held you tight

When I awoke I knew you’d be gone
As you’ve done so many times
I also know you cannot stay
As you’re needed somewhere else
But you’ll return when I need you most
My Angel of the Night

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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