Lynne Crandall

The streaming droplets of water
Are a reflection of my soul,
Carving canyons of sorrow as
They drip down the window.
...

I stare out the window at the gathering stormclouds,
My pencil posed above the blank paper
I can feel inspiration swirling around me
From the majestic rumble of thunder
...

As I stare into you blind, cataract covered eyes,
And gently pat your head,
I remember.
I remember all those years ago
...

I recall the last time you were here, I tried to make
Those cupcakes but for some reason they wouldn’t bake.
So I left them in the oven for an hour or two
But then they started to burn, boy did they smell, phew!
...

As my futile attempt to write a poem comes to a close,
I wonder what the point is
What is the point of all the wasted hours,
all the heartache,
...

You thought you were so clever
When you snatched the answer sheet
From under the teacher's nose,
And sauntered back to your friends
...

Another birthday has come and gone
And now there are 94 years of wisdom
Instead of 93.
If only someone could appreciate
...

Coughing, coughing
Sneezing, sniffing
Throat is burning
Head is pounding
...

The woman behind the counter is ready for a break.
A break from serving seaweed salads
and a break from her life.
Her mother, who runs the family business,
...

Every life has several layovers
Before reaching that final destination of death.
That destination which looms over our shoulders
And haunts us like some imagined shadow of a forgotten dream.
...