There Should Be a Word

There should be a word
for the experience of newly washed cotton sheets
hanging on the clothesline
A word that expresses
more than the fresh, clean smell of linen
more than the buttery warmth of the sun
on your face when you look up
to fasten the clothespins
more than the feeling
of home
of renewal
of nostalgia for apple pie cooling on the window pane
(even if your mother never baked apple pie)
A word for the wholeness of the experience

I'm thinking of a word
like petrichor
Petrichor captures the entire sensuousness
of the just-having-rained feeling
Say that one word
and everyone knows exactly what you mean
(once you define it for them)

There should be more
of these words
but since there are not,
I present to you a picture:
Newly washed cotton sheets
hanging on a clothesline
I hope that you understand.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 252
and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Tuesday Platform

Molly and Mark

Whatever happened to Molly and Mark?

Remember those rides in the car?

Cruising the streets every night after dark

We never did go very far

Just out for some bowling

or maybe a dance

sometimes sneaking a smoke if we dared

Backseats at drive-ins

the boys took a chance

on the girls with whom 

they had been paired

But Molly and Mark, they were not like the rest

Those two were in it to stay

He gave her his ring and most of the boys guessed

that he got her to go all the way

Molly left school during her senior year

Mark graduated that spring

Mol stayed with an aunt who lived not far from here
and never stopped wearing Mark's ring

Whatever happened to Molly and Mark?

and all of the kids from that day?

The memory of all of us in that old car

driving farther and farther away.

submitted for Magpie Tales 79

Remember When?

image courtesy of Theme Thursday

Remember when the TV said goodnight?

The anthem played then all was static white?

We had the volume turned down really low

'Twas past our bedtime; parents didn't know

We giggled with excitement and with fright.

Remember  when we wished with all our might

To find ice cream in the milk box shining bright?

But most weeks only eggs and milk you know

Remember when?

Remember when the days were pure delight?

Running to the field to fly our kite?

Your back was to the wind you hoped would blow

As the string spun through your fingers like a pro

And we soared up there with it taking flight

Remember when?

submitted for Theme Thursday, April 21, 2011