We tried each other on

New best friends

Playing “Barbie” in our sixties.

A task not for the faint hearted.

She had gone on vacation summer 1965

Never returning [...]]]>

We tried each other on

New best friends

Playing “Barbie” in our sixties.

A task not for the faint hearted.

She had gone on vacation summer 1965

Never returning to this life

That I know and love.

She was frozen in another time of 

Long teased hair below her shoulders

That made her look years older.

An alien from another galaxy, she cried

“But men like long hair.”

While I cringed,

Sharing my enlightenment

And love of books

With no one in particular…

Except “Barbie” chattering continuously

About internet websites of men

Loving women with long hair.

Me, not one to understand

Or care that plastic is a fabric…

A fabric that has increasingly become

Unfamiliar to my soul.

All rights reserved.  ©2010 by Sara Fryd

Little sister dear, little sister

Listen to my stories of Alice and Dorothy

Of Ruth and Naomi

Countless heroines

Women of honor, of grace

Of beautiful eyes and wondrous hearts

Who [...]]]> This beautiful photograph is from Vox Poetica - an amazing website for poets and writers.  Click on Vox Poetica and you will be transported directly there.

Little sister dear, little sister

Listen to my stories of Alice and Dorothy

Of Ruth and Naomi

Countless heroines

Women of honor, of grace

Of beautiful eyes and wondrous hearts

Who ride in carriages drawn by golden horses with manes

The color of the light in your hair

I’ll remember for years to come

When I grow older and wish for gentler days

Like those we share today

An instant in time

Seconds that remain in our hearts

Staying hidden, next to the left ventricle

Where I shall carry you always

I promise

Little sister

Listen to my whispers

Discovering letters and words

To share with you

That I am only learning myself

Knowing that I will always be your heroine

For one

Little sister, little sister

All rights reserved.  ©2010 by Sara Fryd

technology that becomes obsolete

disposable when new “innovations”

arrive on shelves at Best Buy.

I am unable to visualize

Boxing up e-readers

Moving them from this house

to that apartment

          where

I place my body

For a moment in time.

Books…

My “art”

My artistic treasures [...]]]> e-Readers…

technology that becomes obsolete

disposable when new “innovations”

arrive on shelves at Best Buy.

I am unable to visualize

Boxing up e-readers

Moving them from this house

to that apartment

          where

I place my body

For a moment in time.

Books…

My “art”

My artistic treasures created by tears

By toil, sweat, and blood.

Unable to live without them 

Longing for one or the other

When they are lost or visiting a friend.

Lovingly placed in cardboard boxes

With tissue paper in between the covers.

Stored carefully so the elements

can’t prey on their soft skin-like paper.

Cherished are my books,

Like unfound sapphires in rocks

Where God hides within each page

In the dark next to parts of my soul

Ready to be awakened

When found in the light of day.

All rights reserved.  ©2011 by Sara Fryd