Image for the poem Roberta


A long intentional stretch
stimulates warmth ~ loosens
Altoids, to pack a punch when needed
Last minute neck rolls
round and round  
Music queued,  
I tie my asics up just so
It's always the same route,
creature of such habit, this one  
out the battered screen door,  
down the front garden sidewalk
through the magnolia tree debris
(those damn pseudo wanna be pinecones)
a veer to the left,
pet Sammy, as he comes running up
begging just right for the treats
from my tiny legging pocket
Oh to bask in ginger kitty cuteness
then head out,  
"In hopes to at least maintain but perhaps get rid of a few too many gained."
Lake Roberta
She holds untold amounts
of my blood, sweat and tears
I'm cradled in her natural bosom
she's a sacred high priestess
the keeper of the deepest of my secrets
a sacrosanct confessional
only unto her
I gladly spill without care or hesitation
a calm languid beauty
she approaches
as my walk always starts
her way, downhill
(a hill by Florida standards, that is)
"Give me your most wicked and murderous"
Perfume wafts in the faintest hint of gardenia
mixed with a kind of pond algae bloom
Skies are overcast
Intermittent sunshine peeking in and out
thanks for small favors
to not be battered in sunstroke;
The ducks are nestled together
seems they've called a meeting
on someone's driveway, they convene
I imagine it's to bring awareness
of where they should stand motionless
for no reason, nor concern for how long
i bet they pass notes and leave each other tips
to increase the motionless longevity
especially if confronted by a moving vehicle
This behavior, I am convinced of.
My sweat beads and my earbuds pulse,
walking in purposeful time to the beat
a playlist of the most eclectic
yet it works perfectly in it's precision
exactly when and where I know I need
Music carries me along
when the hills get too seemingly steep
or my back or legs start to
recognize their age.
The lake whispers her comforts;
Turning towards the prominent side
where the houses are so classically pretty
and actual stone lions line
either side of this certain walkway
leading up to a white plantation style beauty
not my usual cup of tea eye catcher,
I cannot help but to peer inside
every single time I walk by-
a baby grand piano
a bichon barking
like clockwork, always
It's the monotony that's so reassuring
the lake motivates in continual wondering
accepting today's journal entry
no judgements
harsh rebukes or reprieve
she's a wondrous soothing balm
despite all my confessed atrocities
Winding the corner
uphill now
I marvel at one particular tree
it's exquisite in stature
with breathtaking lilac colored blossoms
unsure of it's type
I bask in true picturesque stunning
lilac colored petals litter the ground
all the way to the street and beyond
they drift in the breeze
nature's happy confetti billows
I take pictures, yet know they'll do no justice
No one's heart can remain heavy
within that celebration.

"With her absolution, it's forgiveness that spurs growth and a reminder of self love."
Trudging my way
back to my beginnings
Roberta, now lays
silently contemplating
her smooth surface of glass
reflects of bound promises
my body is tired in that best kind of exhaustion
I quietly bid her adieu
until tomorrow's  
newest set of confessions
Written by Bluevelvete
Published | Edited 7th Mar 2021
Author's Note
For Grace's A Walk comp.
pic:. My own of Lake Roberta
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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