Remembering Winter

Winter, my old friend...

I see you beyond the hill

Autumn's last leaf swept away

My shoulders shake with chill

Are my bones just getting old?

They say you're on the way.

Even the clouds have lost their fluff

They seem so flat, so grey.

Yet, I recall a winter past

When cold couldn't halt my play

And the crunch of snow beneath my boots

Brought smiles to my day.

As snowballs landed at my feet

Thrown by admiring boys

Placing me on center stage

I can hear their swishing noise.

As days grow short and cold winds blow

I glance at the orange sun

Remembering so long ago

When winter just meant fun! 

© Shelly Sitzer, 2019

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Christmas in My Heart

for Scott Coskie, a talented theater director who 

loved Christmas and everything Disney

Defying December winds

one blustery day,

we happily strung Christmas lights

across your front yard.

Dressed in Disney ornaments

your tree, glistening through the window

as inside, tinseled shelves of snowy cotton

set a stage for village life.

Within my mind, there still exists

a dancing Pinocchio,

the gift your heart couldn't help but crave

one Christmas long ago.

Watercolor memories,

abstracted and blurred,

melding Christmas past into Christmas present,

alive and aglow,

bringing you back each year 

as angelic characters fill my ears

and Christmas comes to my heart!

© Shelly Sitzer, 2017

Pinocchio and Cantinflas marionettes
at the National Puppet Museum
in Huamantla, Tlaxcala, Mexico
by Alejandro Linares Garcia
from Wikimedia Commons

The Game of Life

It’s a game called life

With treasures lost

Loves, friends, jobs, opportunities

Ne’er to come again.

What went astray?

Perhaps to have played a piece differently

Just one small maneuver

Might have brought another outcome.

But we cannot make those changes

Yesterday’s chance gone..

So we breathe deeply and jump ahead

Preparing for more of the game.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2017

Four Gods Playing Checkers
from Sadao, Thailand
Photo by Photo Dharma
from Wikimedia Commons

Mementos

Small things

seem to take on fresh meaning

as pages yellow

through time

filed in drawers labeled "junk."

Old photos

and love letters,

a golden locket

still untarnished

that seemed real when

presented long ago

by a special beau.

A display of colorful objects  

look up when brushed

with a duster,

that swishes quickly by stolid ceramic faces,

mementos from a loving friend

to dance upon the shelf.

These objects remain

and letters retain

wafts of cologne

once carefully applied

to hold the message

unstained and lasting,

as if the message could disappear!

It endures in wisps of memories

and things stored, but not forgotten.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2017

Knick knacks
Photo by Francisco Anzola
from Wikimedia Commons

For When You Are Sick In Bed

When you are sick in bed

With an array of wrinkled pillows ’round your head

It’s like “get through another day.”

“Get through another night.”

But nights aren’t really that bad

When you can watch the sunrise 

Lighting your window

Or contemplate the world outside.

You can choose to have visits

From each of your children

As they come to you in multi stages

Of their young lives, laughing or

    skipping rope.

There in the dark their smiles greet you

They may even be up to old antics

But all is fair

As you make it through

    another night.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2016

Mrs. John Webb, being nursed when sick in bed
Engraving by M. Burghers, ca. 1700
from Wikimedia Commons

Old Appliances

Once upon a time,

When I was very young,

I looked upon my avocado colored appliances

   with joyful pride.

My shiny refrigerator, so "avante garde,"

Brightening my kitchen with a light

That reflected on to the same color oven door

Where I baked the children's cookies.

But moving took me away from the kitchen set,

Gave me instead an old Sub Zero that smiled 

With its gleeful huge wood-paneled door.

And though quite old,

It happily substituted for the shiny avocado one,

Doing its job while plodding away for 20 years and more

As I refused to part with

One who had morphed into

An old friend,  

Reliably ready when the children

Reached inside for their after school snack

Of milk and cookies.

Gone are those days of dependably seeing the children.

Fragmented memories remain,

Like those of the old Sub Zero,

Replaced now with jet black GE's,

A matching set taking on the role,

No children's fingerprints to mar their glaze.

They stand alone… waiting. 

© Shelly Sitzer, 2015

"Landscape with Refrigerators"
Painting by Kida Kinjiro
from Wikimedia Commons

Fifties Gal

In high heels and dresses that floated on the waves of her crinoline,

She'd saunter down Manhattan streets

As "fellas" whistled from around her

Because she decorated their views.

In skirts expanded by petticoats

Swirling her colors,

She'd dance the lindy 'cross party floors

As hopeful beaus

Stood in line waiting for a chance to partner her.

Fifties gals in flipped hair styles,

Their hair held back by colored bands—

Her mind remembers as she studies the mirror

For signs of a person left behind.

Still standing straight on her 70th birthday,

Hair blonde as it once was, 

Only a few gray streaks and lines

Telling the world she's no longer fifteen.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2014

"Women's fashion in the 1950s"
from "Fashion Pictures
Vintage fashion galleries from 1955-58"

Cherry Blossoms

We will meet under the cherry tree

That graces the front lawn,

Where you whimsically threw your books,

Stretching beneath its blossom-laden bough.

Let us find some sprigs,

Loosened here and there,

Combining our  bouquets

To adorn the sitting room.

Ensconced by silken pink tufts,

I wait each year for you.

As falling petals skim my hair,

I envision blooms of long ago.  

© Shelly Sitzer, 2014

Cherry blossoms
Photo by Tony Russell

Raspberry Wine

The day will come,

There'll come a time...

When we shall taste raspberry wine,

I'll pour a drink from the carafe

As we turn to share a secret laugh.

Someday will come when you are mine

And we will sip raspberry wine.

Into the fireplace our eyes will gaze,

Reminiscing life's tangled maze.

Though some will say that we're too old,

Our hearts will never become cold.

We'll be like petals falling down in May,

Drifting through each and every day.

Each time you brush aside my hair.

My face will be forever fair.

And life will be more than divine

As we sip raspberry wine.

And I will drink from your goblet,

And you, my love, will drink from mine.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2013

Raspberry port
Photo by Jon Sullivan of PD Photo. org
from Wikimedia Commons

The Promise of Summer

Trees bending on the hillside

Their boughs long and wide, stretching,

Heavy with fruit.

Peaches blushing with pride

Like a woman's belly, round and smooth

From the love he gave to her.

Ripe with anticipation

They lie under the shade of the fruit tree

And contemplate shades of blue sky

While they talk about plans

And he makes her sweet promises. 

© Shelly Sitzer, 2012

Peaches: USDA photo by Keith Weller

To a Young Girl (Inspired by Maureen)

I remember you…

The first time you learned to skate.

And when you skied your first slope,

I remember your determination.

Then when spring came

You raced home from school

To do your homework in a tree.

I see you on the highest branch.

In dresses, jeans and silver heels,

You become a mixed collage,

And when summer flowers return,

I remember each variety as I

    remember you.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2011

Photo of Shell's painting of her daughter Maureen