Sally DeSmet Trueblood Poems

Sounds erupt in the distance,
disturbing the quiet in my mind
and infiltrating tranquility.
Building blocks to chaos.
...

My Mom was like a perfect rose at springtime,
Pure and beautiful, and the petals perfectly formed,
And it's fragrance sweet and pleasing to the senses.
For the rose, as my mom, came into this world as a thing of beauty.
...

When the last leaf has tiptoed down from the security of its shapely branch, lightly spinning without destiny,
to the company of the early leaves that passed before,
it takes its place on the cold dark ground.
Who among us knows that it clung tighter, stayed longer,
...

Your world at six was a carousel of pure gold.
Smitten with grassy parks, make-believe toys, and puppies to hold.

Life at six was a circus of days seized with unbridled glee,
...

I cannot find this once-beautiful girl through her heroin eyes,
Her eyes are drawn to the dancing poison,
The streams of light are growing dim as evil shadows cast,
To shroud the glow of heaven.
...