Simple Tasks of Love

Stamped is it and placed sill.
Kept until the last moment.
Mostly known for procrastination.
"It's done." I yell aloud.
Given the look of exasperation.
As if loudly said.
"Was it truly so hard a task?"
Written in scribbles are words.
In such a way as if rushed.
Rushed for time that seems.
There is barely enough to spend on such.
Tedious tasks as giving the thought.
To one that should be so precious.
"No" comes the reply of uncertainity.
Is that guilt seeping in so quick?
Dear me, no, I think.
Yet it keeps hold on my thoughts.
It is over and done I think.
Gathering what happiness is left.
There isn't much there.
Wondering why it is so hard to write.
Can it really mean so much?
Do words really make a difference?
A sigh and drop of the head.
Falling back to the original task.
Hand meeting pen once more.
Truth and love spill forth.
Pen tracing against paper, words speel out.
First it starts, "Dear Grandma and Grandpa"
The impact of a realization.
That words can express so much more.
They can express not only life, but love.

Leaned over my shoulder I hear said.
"Writing another?" quitly.
Answered by such silence.
A smile and a nod.


Copyright 2011 Lauren Hall ©