© Jan Piller
With love and trust, a home and ring you pledged;
your prismed heart, you claimed, outshone the stars!
Our bid for jeweled suits, our glamour spread
on thin veneers of tangoed nights in bars,
we danced a dark exciting repertoire.
Then came the days you spread your tissued lies;
you sped on ribboned streets in racing cars
and played the deuce with packs of money guys.
But clubs left me word-scarred with no disguise;
you partied on and on while I played solitaire.
All night I walked the floor and sought reprise;
you left our home and fled the life we shared.
My heart lies rent in frozen splintered shards.
Our home has fallen like a house of cards.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 9/13/2012 * All Rights Reserved
She wore a silver locket every day
Evelyn the milliner’s daughter.
After we shopped for fabric at the General.
we often went next door
to look at hats and the milliner’s daughter.
A simple dress was what she wore–
quite plain, yet elegantly sewn.
She twisted and rolled her shiny brown hair,
and a special air enveloped the girl
whose engraved silver locket danced
and swirled on a sterling chain.
Everyone remarked that the milliner’s daughter,
never wore her mother’s hats;
adorned only by that rich brown hair
and her secret silver locket.
The milliner’s shop became a legacy
to our town. We, who’d worn those fashioned
for Easter, weddings, and all life’s
celebrations, were amazed
when her creations were shown far and wide;
prized by wealthy matrons all over the state.
Life and styles slowly changed;
hats and milliners faded from fashion.
After they moved, John at the General got mail
from Evelyn for a while
She lived in Paris,
she knew Braque
who molded her into their art.
Each enchanted by her,
and the mysterious silver locket.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved
When moon’s a silent silver slivered rill,
then autumn sneaks by dark upon the stair
where night revolves yet all the stars stand still.
The sweet gum flames, its redness gladly spilled
across the spiderwebs spun vast, now bare
with moon a silent silver slivered rill.
The evening casts a spiky stirring chill;
when trees outline themselves as ghosts out where
the night revolves yet all the stars stand still.
Those silhouettes that scared the birds now spill
themselves on hedges full of purple snares;
when moon’s a silent silver slivered rill.
My heart beats slower, still I feel the thrill
of bonfire smoke and shows at county fairs
when earth revolves, yet all the stars stand still.
As midnight strikes I note the rising hill
that looms in darkness at that junction where
the moon’s a silent silver slivered rill
when earth revolves yet all the stars stand still.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 9/9/2012 * All Rights Reserved