May 30, 2010

24



The words were poison-tipped and
stung when they landed upon her tender heart;
The looks, like daggers, hit their target before
she had a chance to raise her shield.

She put on what he liked to call her "Chloe" face and
stomped away mumbling words under her breath that she would never say out loud,
tossing things and slamming doors and maybe would have kicked the dog
if they had a dog.

But the next morning he made her breakfast and brought it 
to her in bed on a tray with a single rose 
(even though he was aware that she had a thing for daisies)
and laughed with her when she dripped syrup on the sheets.

After they had made a proper mess 
he stripped the linens and did the laundry
while she tended to her flower garden and smiled thinking
about the blueberry stains that probably never would come out.

That was the morning he went from zero to hero,
from worst to first in a matter of minutes
and became her Jack Bauer again.

6 Passengers in the Car:

Brian Miller said...

smiles. what a beautiful 24...thats my kinda guy...one that doesnt make us look bad by sitting in the la-z-boy thinking he won th arguement....

Kathy said...

This is grand! Very awesome. I wish I was Chloe!! :-) Great job!

Magpie said...

Very beautifully done, Tracy. I love the "words were poison-tipped". I recognize this rose!!

Felicitas said...

Brilliant! But I'm afraid this rings a little too close to home for me: When words that are "poison-tipped" come at you too often... well, after awhile, it's too late for that zero to ever truly become a hero again.

Jingle said...

handsome poem...
Happy Sunday!

Relyn said...

This is marvelous. Such powerful imagery.