Back to Basics

by Butternose
(Click on the song "Riddle" and get a feel for how it set the mood on this entry)

I know the phrase "Everything happens for a reason" is said a lot, but I am a true believer in this on good and bad occasions.
A little less than a month ago I packed up everybody and we headed south to visit family. I would have loved to leave the laptop at home but the reality was, I pay most of our bills through the darned thing so it was a must have on this trip as bills would be due during our 2-week long visit.
I packed it along with pure intentions on only using it for the bills but then my mind went into blog, email and instant search withdraw. I knew the laptop was easily accessible so it was hard to resist. I was up early one morning before anyone else so I decided I would take advantage of that quiet time and get online.
Well, the darn laptop wouldn't start-up. Time after time, I opened it and closed it and pressed the power button. As the minutes passed I began to feel the frustration deep inside me grow stronger. Finally, I closed the laptop lid, set the laptop aside and I selfishly prayed to God and asked him to make it work. After all, all I wanted to do was get on my blog, check out the latest on other blogs, check email, search for who sang that song my mother-in-law & I heard on the radio the day before, and who knows where else that would have lead me in the internet world.
Luckily, I had packed my latest Writer's Digest Magazine. So I began to read an article and halfway through reading I reached over and punched the power button on the laptop .
Ah, the sweet sound of a computer powering up. Fans blowing, screen flashing words and shapes and making forward progress towards endless possibilities.
The funny thing was, once it started I was so involved in the magazine that I no longer cared to get online. I was more interested in finishing the magazine. I think my eyes and brain enjoyed looking at the magazine more than looking at the laptop, too.
Once we got home, this incident occurred 2 more times. Each time I calmly set the laptop aside and began reading something that I have been putting off for too long. And, each time I reached over to start the laptop it booted right up. This freak occurrence put something into perspective for me.
I decided that it's time for me to get back to basics - for the most part.
I began to think about all of those things that the convenience of technology provides for us. Although technology is great progress, sometimes I feel that the convenience of technology can numb raw knowledge.
Here are a few instances where I believe technology has numbed our minds:

1. Spelling: The little red line that flows under a misspelled word when typing and all we have to do is right-click on it and allow the computer to spell it for us. Solution: Attempt to correct it on your own before right-clicking.
2. Research: Several words come to mind: Google, Wikipedia, Yahoo, Dogpile and any of the other hundreds of search engines. Solution: Take the long road and support your local library. Look in a library and physically hold research in your hands.
   
3. Lost time: Did you ever mean to just get online "real quick?" Yeah, me too and before I know it 2 hours have gone by and all I have done is nothing. I missed out on a sunrise or a sunset or playing with my 2-year-old or having a decent conversation with my husband. Solution: Set a time limit. Look at that little clock in the bottom right-hand corner of your computer screen and call it quits no matter what.

Speaking of which, I have to go. But before I go, I'd like to say that I appreciate technology and what it has done for the world. I'm only suggesting that we take time to get back to the basics of life, stop to smell the roses, all that jazz.
Something else that is said too much but that I believe strongly in, "Life's too short."

Staying at Home

Staying at Home

(Click on the song "Danny's Song" and get a feel for how it set the mood on this entry)

by Butternose

Stay-at-home Mommy days,

Diaper,

Milk,

Breakfast,

Clean-up,

Diaper,

Baby gets dressed,

Play-time,

Snack,

Diaper – get the wipes,

Juice time,

Nap time,

Mommy’s time to,

Wash the dishes,

Clean the house,

Do the laundry,

Get a shower – scratch that the baby woke up,

Diaper,

Juice,

Lunch,

More play-time,

Diaper,

Snack,

Start dinner,

Clean-up,

Bath-time,

Get baby in cozy PJs,

Warm milk,

Story-time,

Family hugs and say our prayers,

Goodnight baby,

Anything but lazy days.

The End of a Generation

(Click on the song "Into the Mystic" to get a feel on how the mood was set for this entry.)
Recently, there have been a few events in my life that have made me think back on things I miss, took advantage of, and wish I had a second chance to experience.
We (my family) buried my paternal grandpop two weeks ago yesterday and my maternal grandmom's health is on a downhill slope, too. I was fortunate enough to have been very close to both sets of my grandparents and I have many memories, great memories, with them. And, though I know we (humans) can't live forever, my grandparents are a chapter in my life that I wish I could share with my husband, my daughter and myself all over again.
It goes back to that age old saying, "I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger." Instead, I wish I could do now what I did when I was younger.
Growing up sometimes sucks - responsibility, failed traditions, and the end of a generation known as "Grandparents."
According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of a Grandparent is: a parent of one's father or mother.
According to those of us who've been fortunate enough to have grandparents we grew up with or were close to, the definition of a Grandparent is:

• true adventurer - one who is not afraid to explore the nasty bugs under the rocks in the garden and smoosh them or scoop them into a plastic cup with a make-shift garden contained in it so we could keep the bug as a pet (who cares, the bug was going home with the kid);

• expert tickler - one who knows the perfect spot on the ribs to tickle effortlessly for hours, even after the grandkid has turned blue and is begging for mercy, but comes back for more;

• candy king/queen - one who knows that I will still eat my dinner even if you feed me desert first; in fact, I might even eat my brussel sprouts in that case (Oh, and mom & dad never have to know about this tradition);

• pesky sibling protector - one who knows it's never the fault of the kid who is crying, especially if his/her sibling is laughing mischievously;

• sensational storytellers - one who has endless accounts of life experiences that range anywhere from walking uphill in the snow both directions to the eleven brothers and sisters they shared a one-room house with to the time they joined the circus and became a trapeze artist;

• total traveler - one who doesn't mind taking the grandkids on long road trips to the aunt's house who lives out in the boondocks or a weekend camping trip or even three blocks down the street to the candy store (reference "candy king/queen" bullet);

• coziest cuddle corner- last but certainly not in the least, one whose arms, legs and over sized belly served perfectly as a corner to cuddle into and fall asleep for hours.

This is a very short list of some things I will miss terribly about the end of my grandparent's generation. Albeit heartbreaking, theirs is a generation I will not soon forget.

Getting What You Deserve

Ah, Karma.
It's a powerful thing that can take you on the road to happiness or the road where you wind up with your foot in your mouth or up your a..well, you know.
My situation is the one where I wound up with my foot up my a..
I haven't had any run-ins with the aforesaid in so long that I should have known better than to take advantage of it.
Stay with me...
How many times have you gone to Wal-Mart and had a case of water under the cart that you forgot about until you emptied the entire shopping cart to see the forgotten water shining right through the grates of the cart. The right thing to do would be to take it back in and pay for it, but by the time you saw it you already had your kid in the car seat or you could start to see the ice cream container sweating and thought, "Screw it!" and packed it in with the rest of the groceries.
Or, how many times have you thrown something in the cart that was a smaller item, such as tweezers or lipstick, and didn't see it at checkout because it slid under your purse that you threw in the back of the cart halfway through the shopping list. And, when you got to the car you again said, "Screw it!"
Well, my friends, take that water or small item back and pay for it because lurking around the corner is Karma!
Both of the above scenarios are things that I've experienced recently in my life and then Karma came around this week to remind me to get my act together and follow my most passionate code of conduct - honesty!
This past Tuesday my Coach brand (super-expensive) glasses were stolen from me while I was at the gym pool swimming a few laps. The glasses were less than 2 months old and instead of freaking out, the first thing I thought of was the dishonest things I mentioned above. I didn't even get mad or upset because I truly felt like I deserved it. It has been 5 days and so far no one has turned them in and I don't expect them to. Now I know how the employees of these stores must feel when they take inventory and get frustrated when they find more things missing than bought.
Just a note to remind you all that Karma happens!

All that you are...

I apologize in advance to those of you who come here for the cozy because the below blog is from an unusually, un-cozy time I had for about a 2-month period this year, and sometimes still struggle with to this day. However, at the same time you might find it cozy to know that my nephew, whom I only met once, is a true miracle of life. He has been home with his family for close to 5-weeks (Yes, we count the days/hours/minutes) with no relapses and he's a phenomena to the experts and a miracle to all of us.
This blog has been in the "saved" portion of my file long enough and now I am ready as I'll ever be to share it with those of you who would like to be reminded of life's little miracles!

Love to all, but especially my nephew.
Butternose

All That You Are (Original)
(Click on the song "Lullaby" to get a feel on how the mood was set for this entry)

I can't believe you've come this far,
It's a miracle - you're a miracle
And your life is made more precious because of who you are.
With too many emotions and too much to say,
It would be best if I just quit writing and left it this way,
But, as you'll grow to learn, your Aunt is talker and so I'll go on.
And now the rhyming stops as there's no method to the madness.
As hard as it is for me to look at your beautiful picture I am thankful to see it, but it makes me wonder what you might be feeling.
You look so peaceful, but are you restless?
You look so innocent, but are you all-knowing? Do you know what your mission is already?
Tears are rushing down my face, I can't keep it together anymore.
God, if nothing else than to satisfy my selfishness, please let him be with us.

Be-somewhere-tween

(Photo by yours truly)
Be-somewhere-tween
By Butternose

Somewhere in between
Where I am,
Where I'm suppose to be,
Somewhere in between
I catch a glimpse of reality.

Somewhere in between
What lies beneath,
And what is clear,
Somewhere in between
I catch a glimpse of what is near.

Somewhere in between
My life at hand,
What life has handed me,
Somewhere in between
I catch a glimpse of what will be.

Somewhere in between
I'm at a point,
From this place to that,
Somewhere in between
I catch a glimpse and relax.

Week Six

(Photo courtesy of my dear friend, Ms. Luckie)

Coordinating Conjunctions
By Butternose

And

Sits this chair meant for me,

A place for more than a memory.

So

Here I should sit and laugh,

Maybe cry with you.

But

Now I am gone,

And you are gone too.

Yet

Somehow it seems,

Things are the same.

Nor

Time or distance,

Has caused us disdain.

For

In our hearts are memories,

A conjunction I shared with you.

Or

Maybe a hope that at the end of the night,

You might sit there too.

Chicken Chat

By Butternose

Here's my second edition of Chicken Chat. I'm still trying to figure out exactly how to word everything so bare with me.
Like I said in my first edition, I just want all of us cackling chickens out there to keep in mind some of the not-so-wise decisions people make, including myself, and hopefully use them to take a step back and think about our daily lives and what we can do to make them more worthwhile for ourselves and for those who we come in contact with, whoever they might be. Mind you, with these Chicken Chats, I'm not saying you shouldn't cackle with your husband or your very best friends if you think it's appropriate, but even with them, as with anyone, be mindful of the words that are coming out of your beak, because once they leave you can never take them back.
Here's my TRUE story with altered names in order to protect the privacy of those involved.
Again, I was sitting in a high-traffic public place watching my little chick playing with all of the other little chicks.
There was an older chicken who began making small talk with me. We talked about this and that, that and this. I told her I was there with my little chick and she said she was there with her grand-chick - a pleasant conversation overall.
The play area was confined and there were a lot of little chicks of all different ages, but seemingly of the same cultural background, running through the play equipment and playing nicely. Well, for the most part - there were some quick cries and a few screams, but nothing major.
After a moment of silence in the conversation, the older chicken said "Now isn't this nice?"
"Yes," I said. "It's great for the chicks to have a place to play."
The older chicken said, "No, I mean that there aren't any" and she looked around quickly and then leaned towards me and said in a softer voice "black chicks here."
I shrugged my shoulders as to say I hadn't noticed, which I hadn't.
"They're just so mean when you get into places like this," she continued. "Their parents don't give a damn about them and they just let them run. One time when we were here before one of them kicked my grand-chick right in the face. That little black chick knew exactly what she was doing and did it on purpose."
"Did you tell her mom," I asked?
The older chicken said,"Well, I was afraid it would cause a scene and I didn't want to start any trouble so I never said anything. You know they learn it at home though, they have to."
"Who knows how any of our little chicks learn their behavior," I said. "My little chick doesn't like any little chicks in her face so I know if any chick gets too close for her comfort and she doesn't want them there, she'll hit them. And I never taught her that."
And now my story stops as the facts have been told, and plus there was nothing further said as I think the older chicken got the hint that she didn't want to go there with me.
The Problem: Assuming it's okay to make prejudicial and stereotypical statements to a person of a seemingly similar cultural background.
The Solution: Don't assume it's okay to make prejudicial and stereotypical statements to a person of a seemingly similar cultural background.
Lesson Learned: You might have your reasons for being prejudice or stereotyping a group of people, but realize that not everyone, even if they look like they should agree with you, feels the same way. I know most everyone has a story of a bad experience with a person of different age, gender, religion, race, etc., but be the better person and don't let it cloud your entire outlook on that group of people. Because the reality is that individuals are what make a group, and not the group that makes the individual.

Chicken Chat

By Butternose

This is my first edition of a new series called "Chicken Chat." It was inspired by all the cackling chickens out there afraid to say what they feel unless, of course, they are talking to a complete stranger - Butternose.
Now, by no means am I saying that I am an individual that leads the way by example because Lord knows I'm Irish and we don't talk about anything. Nope, we just order another drink to empty the bottle so we can make room for all of our feelings - oh, you thought us Irish drank because we actually enjoyed it?
Shame on you!
My goal is for all of us chickens, including myself, to keep these chats in the back of our minds as real life-lessons learned. Hopefully we'll begin to make better decisions in our daily lives based on someone else's not-so-great-decisions.
Back to the circumstance-at-hand.
I must proceed to tell you this story using lame representations of who everyone really was because otherwise someone's liable to sue me.
My first experience of Chicken Chat was a very impressive introduction and I must say it was amusing yet unbelievable all at once - utterly jaw-dropping!
Here's my TRUE story with altered names in order to protect the privacy of those involved.
Once upon a time there was a chicken who's little chick, Fannie, got dunked in a pool as a friendly gesture from another, much smaller little chick, Rosie. It just so happened that I, Butternose, witnessed the events in their entirety and all mother chickens involved seemed unconcerned and the day went on about its business.
The next day, Rosie's mom called me and was very upset because she had received a phone call from Fannie's mom explaining that Fannie had not slept through the night due to nightmares from being dunked in the pool by Rosie. Fannie's mom proceeded to tell her that Rosie could have killed her daughter by dunking her and that Rosie is a bully and she will no longer be allowed to "hang out" with Fannie because she said Fannie was now "terrified" of Rosie.
Well, about four weeks had passed and as I was taking a break with my little chick in a high traffic public area, I found a place to relax and watch my little chick play with all of the other little chicks.
Another mother chicken, who looked so familiar to me, sat across the way from me probably watching her little chick too.
As I sat there and struggled to figure out why she seemed familiar to me, I heard her yell, "Fannie!" Right then I remembered who she was, but before I could get out that I remembered her she was already talking about Fannie and then I naturally began talking about my little chick.
Before I knew where the conversation had gone, Fannie's mom began talking about how her daughter, although she's a "big girl" (in height) is always getting picked on. Then she proceeded to cackle and out came the whole cock-a-doodle-do about a bully named Rosie who had "almost killed" her daughter a few weeks before. She obviously did not recognize me, as I had her.
She continued to disgrace the name of a few other little chicks who her daughter hangs out with that supposedly bully her, and the sad thing is that I was aware that she is also friendly with the other little chick's moms.
Dumbfounded, I allowed her to cackle her little heart away. At this point I figured why stop her when she's already got the entire foot in her mouth, and she gladly continued.
Here's where I stop because the facts have been told so there's no need to continue.
The Problem: Besides talking to a complete stranger about specific people in a public place when there's a possibility they might know them, the problem here was how Fannie's mom exaggerated the truth, especially when I witnessed the situation.
The Solution: I should have stopped her mid-complaint and told her who I was, and let her know that it was not okay for her to be discussing such personal matters not to mention disgracing the reputation of a 4-year-old little chick.
Lesson Learned: There are probably many, but one that comes to mind immediately is DO NOT GOSSIP! Gossiping is rumor or report of an intimate nature, and it usually comes back to bite you in the tail anyhow. Leave the gossiping for the people who get paid to do it without repercussion, like gossip magazines. So, the next time you think you have something "juicy" you'd like to share with another person, think about the short and long-term effects on yourself and those involved.

Thinking of You
With Love, Aunt Butternose

With the horizon in the distance,
My heart is heavy.
Yet the rolling tides of the ocean continue.

(Photo from proud Mommy & Daddy)

Week Four

(Photo courtesy of my dear friend Ms. Luckie)


The Briny Blue
By Butternose

I guess I’ll go with what works for me.

The sky,

The beach,

And the ocean in between.

My body’s to the left,

My soul’s to the right.

It’s a beautiful day,

Likely to lead into a beautiful night.

But what would happen if I just up and left?

Start walking forward,

No looking back,

Leaving everything adrift.

Would my new life

Accept me,

Repress me,

Excite me,

Ignite me?

What’s out there in the big briny blue?

I’ve always wondered.

Is there something that’s better?

Another existence deep in the sea,

Deep down below,

In the depths of the dark,

Waiting for me?

I think I’ll close my eyes now,

And wish these thoughts away.

For now, I guess I’ll go with what works for me.

The sky,

The beach,

And the ocean in between.

This Feeling (1996)

This Feeling
By Butternose

At this moment in my life, this very one,
I'm feeling most peaceful,
The most I have ever felt in one day under the sun.
I think this is the first time, in my short lived life,
My head is clear.
I can extend my arm and at the touch of my fingertips,
It seems anything I want can be near.
This feeling is overwhelming.
It is unexplainable.
A feeling of inner and outer peace, from beyond,
That I cannot describe even if I was able.
Maybe an honest feeling of happiness,
Not just thinking or saying you are.
My advice, pay attention to yourself
For this feeling for you may not be far.

Me (1997)

Me
By Butternose

If I lost your trust,
If I proved my worth,
Would you not lose faith,
in me?
If I let you down,
If I picked you up,
Would you walk,
with me?
If I broke your heart,
If I gave you mine,
Would your love be divine,
for me?
If I ever leave you,
If I never say goodbye,
Would you take advantage of time,
with me?
If all this sounds selfish,
If I wrote it for you,
Would it make you smile,
at me?

Peaceful You (1997)

Peaceful You
By Butternose

I look at the reflection of the sunset in your eyes.
With eyes so beautiful as yours,
I can only dream what there is for me to explore.
While you fill me with your wisdom,
Always wishing myself to be that wise,
Millions of thoughts that don't count,
A bunch of what if I's, as if I would ever.
Wanting to be able to start anew and realizing this,
As I'm staring at peaceful you.
The knowledge I gain as each word leaves your tongue is sincere,
You don't need to think about the right words to say,
They're always near.
Somehow you constantly know the best of what to do,
And all this I realize,
As I stare at peaceful you.

The Flock (1993)

The Flock

By Butternose

In a wonderland they go by.
They all know summer has died.
Up in the sky they spread their wings,
Embarking on many new beginnings.
Knowing Summer's return,
Will give new birth for what they yearn.

Unfinished

(Photo by yours truly)

Unfinished
By Butternose

Alone in a field, there stood a young tree.

There were limbs and leaves,

And it took more than once.

But I remember I climbed it,

Though it was tough as could be.

I seized it and I scratched it,

I hurt that young tree.

But when I got home, I found,

The tree had hurt me.

There were bruises and scrapes,

And blood that would stain.

I wasn’t sure what had happened,

I wasn’t sure I’d be the same.

Now time has passed, a great time for me,

Of love and of life, and of things yet to be.

I never went back to settle the score, but,

Alone in a field, there stands an old tree.

Spare Tire

Spare Tire

By Butternose

What is this roll?

Well, I don’t know.

Hmmm,

It’s new to me,

Let me think for a minute...

Did I wake up to find,

I have lost my mind?

Nope.

So, what is this roll?

I still don’t know.

Hmmm,

Just another minute…

Did I hide it before?

Yuck, maybe there’s more!

Still, what is this roll?

Oh wait, I know.

Hmmm…

How do I say, in so many words,

My body after thirty, is for the birds.

In My Life

Butternose getting personal...

It’s clockwork. My eyes open to the blinding red numbers of the alarm - 5:18 - in my dawn-lit bedroom each morning. My sense of sight begins each day and within milliseconds my sense of hearing is keyed by the tune of my husband’s deep-sleep breathing. How I envy him. On occasion, I’ll take a moment to sigh and then each time, instantaneously, I decide against it. In reality, it’s an unwarranted action so soon after a decent rest. Usually, my next step for the day would be to slither my legs out from under the fortress of warmth covering them, with the rest of my body slowly following so as not to wake my husband from his sleep. However, one morning, for no identifiable reason when my eyes opened to those same red numbers on the alarm clock, I decided not to get out of bed. I don’t particularly remember what day of the week it was, but I do remember why I stayed in bed.

How did I get here? I don’t mean, “How did I get into this bed?” I mean, “How did I get to this point in my life?” I am twenty-seven years old and what do I have to show for my life? A high school diploma, a honorable military separation from over five years ago – God, five years already, the ongoing pursuit of an undergraduate degree while working full-time, two failed pregnancies, serious weight gain with lack of motivation to do anything about it, and the removal of a cancerous mole on my back. I am twenty-seven years old and these are the events that have encompassed the past ten years of my life.

If someone would have asked me ten years ago, “Where do you see yourself in the year 2005?” I imagine my response would have been similar to this: “On an assignment for the National Geographic as lead photo-journalist, living amongst the nomads in the vast sand hills of the Sahara Desert. I’ll be snapping pictures of dama deer as they cross the top of a desert hill, while the sun, off in the distance, creates heat waves on its descent. I will write about my adventures of living with the nomads on their journey to a new area of the desert. I will write about how the nomads only travel after the blistering desert sun hides behind the night sky, which creates a cooler climate for their move. I’ll travel humbly, bringing only the necessities and I’ll attempt to learn the native language of the nomads.”

I felt embarrassed, disappointed and regretful about my fallen dream. Then, when my thought was interrupted by my husband’s loud snore, I immediately felt embarrassed, disappointed and regretful, once again, for feeling this way. At that moment, the music on the alarm clock sounded. It wasn’t loud. As I lay there, not really thinking about anything at this point, I began listening to the song that was playing. I started to pay attention to the words of the song and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The song was about someone being 15 years old for a moment and what happens at that age, then 33 years old for a moment and what happens at that age, etc. However, the chorus of the song is what really strummed my heartstrings. “Every day’s a new day…Time to buy and time to choose…when you only got 100 years to live." The words to the song were an epiphany to me. “When you only have one-hundred years to live,” I whispered under my breath. I never thought about my life from that point-of-view. One hundred years is not a long time and I’m only going to be twenty-seven years old for a moment.

In that instance, I decided that I was no longer going to waste my moments dwelling on decisions I made in the past that cannot be changed. Instead, I seized that moment and I made the decision that I was going to become a forward thinker. That morning, as I slithered my way out of bed and quietly shut the alarm off, I felt as if my spirit had been renewed. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time without any regret. I went through my usual morning rituals before going to work, but I could tell, as I leaped off my front step and strolled down the walkway to my car, that today was going to be the beginning of a new moment in my life.

January 28, 2008

It’s been since the summer of 2005 that I wrote this blurb about myself. Since then, I’ve had several cancerous moles removed from my body, I am on a regular 6-month schedule to monitor “suspicious growths” on my thyroid, but I finally had a successful pregnancy and I have a beautiful daughter who is almost two. I cringe when I look in the mirror, sometimes, but I no longer wished I lived with the nomads or was running free with dama deer. Nope, I’m happy as can be with where I am in my life right now. Although I have to read this essay every once in a while to remind myself to think forward I do believe I am where I’m supposed to be.

Week Two

Cheesed Off

By Butternose

I wonder how much more of this crap I can take.

I scoop and I pour,

Each filter leveled – no mistakes.

My most favorite sip is the last one that holds,

The most sugar, creamer and booze,

A concoction for the bold.

I sip and I sip so careful to taste,

Every bit of each element, I try not to waste.

Yet, there they appear again and again,

Polluting my most cherished sip,

The one at the end.

(Photo courtesy of my dear and talented friend, Ms. Luckie.)

Week One

This is my initial posting. It was a tough one because I wasn’t really sure how to navigate this site, but I'm sure I'll get by.

My dear and talented friend, Ms. Luckie, and I have decided to start weekly exercises of the mind. My friend took this picture years ago, and it was my job to interpret and express how it made me feel. This was week one.

So I thought, and thought and finally I heard a song that made me connect to the picture. Music is a HUGE inspiration for my writings. The song in the link below is what inspired me to write what I wrote about the picture – if that makes any sense.

So, if you would do me the honor, and bring up the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiOHpWYlr9Q&feature=related

Listen to the song, get a feel for the mood of the song (not the video, so it would help to possibly listen w/ your eyes closed), and then replay the song while you’re reading my blurb at the bottom. The song sets the tone/mood for what I wrote about this picture – and then, of course, let me know your most honest opinion!

See You on the Other Side

By Butternose

Trees bend in the breeze,

The fresh water falls,

Spring flowers have bloomed,

His footsteps are gone.

I hear this man,

And all the others.

Their footsteps distant echoes,

They can’t be bothered.

I look up with hope,

But then they’re gone.

They never stop,

The footsteps shove on.

At the end of each day,

The footsteps draw near.

They pass without care,

But, never knowing, I’ll wait here.

The trees are now lifeless,

The water’s gone cold,

The flowers are dead,

My story is told.