Yesterday My Life Was Filled With Rain

Memory is a tattered blanket,
Whipping in the breeze.
It doesn’t cause calamity,
Doesn’t set my mind at ease.

There’s so little to hang on to
By now I should let go.
Still I carry it, I carry you
Back and forth, to and fro.

I recall a summer day,
when you sang me Bobby Hebb.
And you a vision of beauty,
You were my only need.

“Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain.”
“Sunny, you smiled at me and really, really eased the pain.”

Sunny, one so true.
I still love you.



    1. Thank you for the really kind words. If the prompt moves me, I just write a poem. It’s a round peg in a square hole moment for the day, a mini act of defiance when I’m supposed to be allowing the right brain to rule.

      We are so awash in information and have 24/7 access to it, for someone to pause, read something I wrote, and then give me some kindness back, means a great deal.

      Best wishes to you.


      Liked by 1 person

      1. While most of us who write poetry do so for our own selfish reasons – at the same time displaying a dash of ego – we also hope that our poems give pleasure or even sustenance to others, and if so, it is a treat for them to read, and another to send compliments. In that way we feel connected to something real.
        Or to put it simply, it was a pleasure, Aaron – although you put my untypically irrelevant poem of the day to shame.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you for the prayers. That means a great deal to me. It was the prayers of blogging friends that started my addicted daughter on the road to recovery. She’s been clean for almost three months, and is remarkably happy.


      3. Whoops, sorry. I read friends’ son and child on your blog and got my wires crossed. Prayers for your daughter. Best wishes Jane!

        Liked by 1 person

      4. I’m afraid you didn’t get your wires crossed. I have four children; my youngest daughter and son are both addicts. My daughter is in recovery but I’m not so sure about my son.


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