The trail you leave behind
in the kitchen
you want to be found,
not yet lost, but
my future with you
a morning ritual of baguette crumbs
from our favorite shop
scattered on the counter and floor
crunching under my feet
I wait in line
to buy the last loaf
standing tall in its bread basket
fresh in the early morning
still warm from the oven
the way you like it
I know there will be crumbs
and the trail that remains
after your midnight feast
of peanut butter and honey
on a toasted slice
yet I buy the baguette anyway
I carry my own crumbs
remnants of a life before you
a different time, different goals
hope, fear, love, disappointment
greatest joy and deepest sadness
challenges that we both faced
I didn’t know I was searching for you
we were both lost
in our thoughts, in our grief
As life proceeded with little consequence
as though everything was normal
So we normalized life
I stand here for you
knowing that a life
of eloquent words
and a trail of bread crumbs
left behind in the morning
has captured my heart
Victoria Emmons, ©2019
acceptance, Amour, Challenges, Destiny, Grief, Happiness, Loss, Love, Love, Marriage, Musings, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Wedding
Amour, challenges, couples, grief, hope, life, loss, love, marriage, poems, poetry, relationships, survival
Jul · 21
Snow falls outside as I lay in bed this Sunday morn awaiting you I hear the familiar sound of a sizzling frying pan in the kitchen breakfast being prepared a Valentine’s Day gift No cake this time, instead omelette au …
“Espresso Live” speaks of the frailty of human relationships.
Amour, Desert, Destiny, Heartbreak, life, Love, Marriage, Memoir, Memories, Musings, poems, Poetry, Relationships, sand, Thoughts, Wedding
challenges, family, life, love, marriage, relationships, sorrow, survival
May · 30
You were talking in your sleep last night.
In English? you ask.
I think so, or so it seemed.
What did I say?
I’m not sure. Words were garbled.
Maybe gargled, too.
—Victoria Emmons, copyright 2019
Amour, Love, Love, Memoir, Musings, Poetry, Relationships, Sleep, Thoughts
love, Sleep, words
Feb · 07
Do not set foot
into a black limousine.
A ride through empty streets
makes the dream real.
No pretend toe tag,
coroner’s signature required.
Son rescues a wedding ring
from a burial far too deep.
Well-placed calls to
sisters, brothers and daughters.
Search for an American flag
to drape across a wooden coffin.
Images of sixty-some years
pasted to a display board
filled with silly grins
at milestone occasions.
Give me a handkerchief,
please. Be there for me,
you, a witness to
love, family, legacy.
Write your name in a book
to remember celebrants
for a friend, father, grandpa,
brother, husband, lover.
Shoe pinches my toe
with each step toward
sympathetic arms outstretched,
pinches my heart.
If the shoe hurts
I don’t have to wear it.
Allow me, dear Lord,
to live with cold feet.
—Victoria Emmons, © 2017
Challenges, death, Family, Friends, funeral, Grief, life, Loss, Love, Memories, Musings, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts, Writing
death, family, grief, life
Mar · 09
Weep not for me, sweet redbud tree,
Thy leaves will take no chances
Each heart resides most playfully
Upon thy silken branches
Dangling in the wind they sing
Hearts ready for damnation
Search for love against the wind
And hope for procreation
Young ones be the shiniest
Deep ruby red reaction
Thus what creature dare resist
So lovely an attraction
Seeds strewn about with local help
Assures that love will grow
New heart-shaped leaves thus soon to sprout
Come melting winter snow
Wouldst that my own heart sing so loud
And dance to its own tune
While suitors called upon my door
In light of harvest moon
These ruby lips await the kiss
That stirs my dormant soul
Much as the weeping redbud waits
‘Til she achieves her goal
Be patient, she advises me,
Love grows at its own pace
The kindest words, a gentle touch
That make a red heart race
When redbud leaves remain too long
Their red begins to fade
In favor of a dulling green
That hides beneath the shade
Younger leaves retake the stage
Flash colors in the sun
As older ones accept their place
Their usefulness now done
Yet hidden behind a shady branch
Old lovers rekindle a flame
Dull green, a few new dents perhaps,
Still loving all the same
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
While visiting friends in North Carolina, I discovered a Weeping Redbud tree in the yard. The tree’s red, perfectly heart-shaped leaves fascinated me. Then I noticed the older leaves were solid green, having lost their brilliant, red color. It reminded me of the joy of finding love.
Age, Aging, Amour, Challenges, Destiny, Happiness, Heartbreak, Hope, Lonely, Love, Love, Musings, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts
aging, hope, love
Aug · 15
You met me
the rim of my
too late to join me
for dinner and
too late for
a shared glass
You buzzed to
let me know
you were there
–Victoria Emmons, 2017, Prague
Amour, Grief, Loss, Love, Love, Loyalty, Marriage, Musings, poems, Poetry, Time
loss, love, poetry, Prague
Aug · 15
The first time
I saw my own eyes
staring out from
behind your sweet face,
a mirror of self-love
unencumbered by years
of doubt, sweat, tears.
That first time,
the only time
I saw you
before she took
to a better life.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
Dedicated to all the mothers
who had to give up their children.
Babies, Birth, Challenges, Children, Daughter, Destiny, Family, Grief, Heartbreak, kids, life, Loss, Love, Love, Memories, Mother, Musings, Pain, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Secrets, Son
adoption, babies, challenges, children, grief, infants, kids, loss, mother, orphans
May · 16
In fifteen minutes you and I will turn thirty.
That long ago, so much time vanished.
Fifteen minutes disappearing like thirty years.
At midnight, all those years will have passed.
That day we met, we cued up for good reason.
A boat too full let us laugh together instead,
share a beer at the hotel bar,
become friends and lovers for life.
Ten minutes remain until thirty years arrive.
We can soon celebrate a milestone,
worth a bottle of your best champagne.
Bubbles make me laugh. So do you.
I hear your laughter ring in my head. Yet
how heavy it seems. I carry that laughter with me.
Its joy and its burden. A love that will not end.
A memory that will not cease to exist.
Five more minutes and our thirty-year anniversary
becomes real. Aunt Wilma said thirties were the
best years. Best for everything. Her wisdom stays
with me. But after thirty years, a void appears.
Not the same without you, my love, despite the hour.
Remember our anniversary, my calendar tells me.
It is now done. Check you off my to-do list.
I remembered. No one else did.
–Victoria Emmons, 16 May 2017
Amour, Anniversary, Grief, life, Loss, Love, Love, Loyalty, Marriage, Memories, Musings, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Writing, Writing
Amour, Anniversary, grief, life, loss, love, loyalty, marriage, relationships
May · 16
Music chimes a peaceful note from the mouths of children
waving palm fronds to signal triumphant goodness,
line a welcome path for the Master .
Peace be with you.
Tears of joy blend with splattered crimson pews upended
in a rubble of hatred permeating empty minds
determined to crush freedom.
Cry for Egypt.
Red palms scatter the ancient floor of life, open palms
never to breathe again, nailed to a cross of
faith, hope and love.
Cry for the world.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
Challenges, Children, death, Easter, Egypt, Forgiveness, Grief, Hate, Love, Musings, Poetry, Terrorism, War
Easter, Egypt, faith, peace, Terrorism
Apr · 17