Inevitable Erosion

Sometimes words trip over themselves
in a great rush
to make a point, or illustrate a feeling.
Longing to exist beyond the wisp of a thought
tucked in some crowded crevice,
recycled through a span of days.

Sometimes.

Sometimes words are obstinate,
heavy solid things,
resisting all efforts to pry them from
their hidden coves.
There they sit unmoving
and as permanent as
the curved lines in a sculpted stone.

That’s alright.

One day they will be forced to share themselves,
or, like the stubborn sculpture,
risk inevitable erosion and be lost to eternity.

 

At First Blush

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Image Copyright: Kati Bergman 2014

The heated days of sunlit summer
burn themselves out as September closes.
A familiar fading starts again
bringing sweater days and chilly noses,
the trees begin to blush once more
as they take center stage.
All the world settles down,
as the year prepares to take her final bow.

Written September 2013

May everyone enjoy a happy and healthy fall this season!  🙂

Thoughtful Threads

At times I feel as though I hold
the separate threads
of a million thoughts
in my hands
and as they dance in between my fingers,
slide over my palms,
or gently tease my wrists with a whisper light touch,
I can almost make out
a connection between them all,
answering my questions and
feeding the hope I live on.

Blink though, and
the connection is utterly lost…
And the threads?
Separate again.

The Game

Roars and cheers undulate
across the rolling green.
The victors stand to clash against
those on the losing team.
(Though exactly who is who
still remains to be seen.)

Muscle, speed, and strategy
march down the field, line by line,
a bruising battle of bodies
huddle, snap, and play
as the clock counts down the time.

A pass, a run, a sack,
a penalty will move you back,
A rush, a block, a pick,
(Against your team, you’ll feel a little sick…)
A kick, a punt, a score,
Here’s to the game that, no matter how you fare,
always leaves you wanting more.

Love Letters

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Image Copyright: Kati Bergman 2014

In her hands
a memory lay,
golden, weakened, and worn.
Exhausted by the minutes,
Days.
Months.
Years…
Of endless waiting.
The care with which the memory had
been typed
had long ago dissolved.
Now each antique character stood
slowly fading,
growing dimmer by the day,
hiding where the secrets lay,
creating a frustratingly beautiful mystery
out of age and decay.

Words I was given to use: MINUTES, TYPED, BEAUTIFUL

Missing You…

I guess time has been too busy
doing other things,
than mending the ache in our hearts
that missing you always brings.

It’s been several years now,
but I thought that you should know,
we haven’t forgotten you,
we haven’t let you go.

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Image Copyright: Kati Bergman 2014

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Image Copyright: Kati Bergman 2014

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Aunt Jen July 1972- September 1, 2003

Uncle Todd October 1968- September 1, 1997