The Typewriter

 Your time has passed my loyal friend

You always put my mind to ease

When sleep would flirt yet not descend

My dreams found freedom in your keys

The outlet for my rambling mind

A voice when I could not speak

Muddled words were soon refined

On your keys now deemed antique

Of your passing, there’s no rejoice

I yearn for sounds of tapping keys

Which meant a writer found her voice

Capturing words from elusive breeze 

Sweet Little Girl

Without a care you jump and twirl
Sweet little girl
A smiling face
With awkward grace

Band music fell upon your ears
You had no fears
Just moved your feet
On city street

You brought me back to my childhood
While there I stood
Wanting to play
For one more day

Blue Heron

Fearless bird of flight

Standing sentry on the shore

Watches the current

Keen eyes seeking prey

Water ripples, wings expand

Graceful Blue Heron

Lady Slipper

Lone Lady Slipper

Fragile cascading petals

Of white velvet

Catch Of The Day

There once was a lass with desire

To ride ‘tween the canal and the briar

Then a fisherman’s hook

Thought her bike a Chinook

So the catch of the day was her tire!

© pending Susan R. O’Brien

Rejuvenation

Seek

Contentment

On the breakwater

Where icy winds sting your face

To waken dormant senses

In hibernation

For far too

Long

Find

Peace at dawn

As blackness is shed

From the cold canvas of night

Cast aside fear to welcome

A new beginning

Ensconced in

Light

© pending Susan R. O’Brien