Gathering Snowdrops

What is so innocent now was quite naughty back then
Three little girls all age seven snuck out of the house while on lockdown
They met at a field by the lake
There were giggles, stories, jokes, and wishes
They picked little white flowers they named snowdrops
And dreamed of a happier time.

St Lawrence

My first big meal
How are you going to handle it?
I was asked that by no less than fifteen people, the exact number I must feed
I'm not concerned
It'll all work out
It always does in the end
A week was spent buying ingredients
Only one cookbook was opened
Now the big day
I look at the shrine of St Lawrence
It's been passed down for generations
I cross myself before turning on the oven and stove

Winter Morning

Frozen lake
Children beg to skate on the ice
But we are here to work
Water is needed and the meat is gone
The lake, though frozen has fish
Tonight, we will feast

The Marking

If you should look for me
You'll find me by the marking
Today is the feast of the Epiphany
So I've marked the door
Please come find me, my love
I was so foolish to send you away
The ramblings of a selfish woman
Wanting things instead of love
Your heart was an immense treasure
But I wanted a piano
It wasn't in the budget
It is so cold, even by the fire
I yearn for you
Your heart, your gentleness
All those things
Those useless things,  all sold
Please come find me

Request

The moon is overhead

And so are the stars

She strokes my hair

What is your prayer request tonight?

I don't know.

There must be something to ask God for

Of course there is

There's always something to ask for

Health for daddy

The war to end

A teaching job for the fall

I took a deep breadth

My Lord, please send me a husband.

She hugged me close

I'm not ready to let you go so soon

Happy Death

So many things left undone
So many people I pushed aside
Now in this cold room I am about to expire
What will happen on the other side?
There is nothing left to do, but pray
So with barely a whisper,
I ask for St Joseph's intercession
Grant me a happy death

Bridal House

There's an empty hook for your coat
A padded bench by the window
I know how you love to read
Fresh flowers on the table
A quilt made by my mother is folded on the bed
It isn't much
Only one room
But it's yours
Ours, my bride