Contentment

When May comes,

and the daffodils have faded
into the blush of the cottage roses
that I adore almost as much as you,
and the weathered barn,
surrounded by newly dressed maples,
whispers in the wind
its dreams of the summer sun,
I'll still be there;
among the ancient calls of crows
and the occasional twit of a cardinal,
waiting in the cool of long grasses
for you to see
that I've been there
all along.

the Secret Diary

     She thought it best to keep the key to her secret diary on her favorite necklace...the one she never took off. It was so worn in spots and the locket was rusty, but she never cared. The chain was from his necklace and that key would unlock her innermost secrets...things she never told a soul except God himself.
and she kept a picture of her father in the locket....the one of him before he went to war...and she smiled to herself and was thankful she didn't inherit his big ears, but she had loved him nonetheless. The photograph reminded her of the good things...his smile and the moments emblazoned on her heart...like the perpetual story he told her each time they met. The story about how she fell asleep on his chest as a newborn; she, fresh from the womb, and he, fresh from a war that had only just begun.