Cold Toes

Toes, dressed against
cold. Still chilled and damp, remind
movement is a must.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Uncracked Spine

Books beg to be read
as their pages whisper,
syllables of loneliness.

“Love me,
as I love the touch of your hands
on my untracked spine.”

“Choose me.
Let me linger in your mind
as slow sipped wine.”

Once the pages open,
words walk through soul.
Hook, to your whole.

Tethering other’s stories
to what makes you,
you.

“Meet me,
in pages of cream,
Through ink dark as dreams.”

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Not Alone

The trod of booted
feet.
Never lift a face
to great.
Hands in pockets
deep.
One block left
to defeat.

Alone yet not
alone.
Carrying thoughts like
stone.
Hunching shoulders
prone.
Coming night, the
unknown.

But something is
unseen.
An aura somehow,
clean.
Wholly real, so
serene.
Yet hidden by a
misty screen.

It shimmers on the
edge.
Surrounding like a
hedge.
Embodiment of a
pledge.
Leading away from the
ledge.

A gentle hand at
night.
When it’s fight or
flight.
Reminding of the
right,
To walk through lonely
night.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Calm Snow

A blanket of cold.
Gentle, as it floats from grey
Enclosed sky. Now sleep.

God given layers
cover natures dieing throws.
Dignity at end.

Disintegrating,
a slow giving up of self
back into the web.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Leftover Pizza

Like pizza fresh from the oven
A melding of flavors, a comforting texture
In the moment
Satisfying

Like chilled leftovers,
Tasting every vegetable separately
The kick of cold sauce
Heat of chilled pepperoni
Chewy crust that requires a rip while taking a bite.

Happy memory
An expirience enjoyed
Bits and pieces saved for later
Disected
Understood.

Thank God for leftover pizza.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Another one just for fun.


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Walking Socks

Holes in socks
Speak of walks.

Wrapped in leather,
Tied up tight.
Perspirations staining fright
And the stink.

Holes on soles,
Or heal,
Or toes,
Tell a tale of travelers’ woes.

A mile farther than planned.
Foot sore still,
Bend to paths commands

Pull them off at end of day.
Wash?
Or simply throw away?

One inside the others fold.
Wadded,
Oder controlled.

Dumped upon the bed at last.
Remnants of times now past.

Crusted with old sweat.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Just a bit of fun.


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Second Dance

Morning rush, drive fast.
A cyclone follows closely.
Golden leaves dance twice.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Six Word Story (47)

How often do we over look the things that hold us together? The threads that gently bind us into functional complexity…

Did you know, that YOU are someone’s thread?

We all touch each other in small ways that are overlooked. We hold each other together by actions, words, and prayers whispered out of earshot. Don’t be fooled by people’s silence. They are as unaware of their importance as you are of yours.

If we truly understood just how deeply we are all intertwined, it might prove to be a weight unbearable. Like a thread that is strong, but still not made to hold the entire weight of a body, we would snap. Thank God, we are not the only threads that bind.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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