Tag Archive | favorite things

My Silver Love has Been Lost

It’s gone, this time for good I fear. I’ve searched everywhere, and it’s just . . . gone.

It may seem a little silly to get weepy-eyed emotional over something so many may see as nothing more than a throw away object to begin with, but to me, it was more than that; it was a mighty weapon in my personal arsenal, serving as both shield and sword; confidant and companion.

It served me well, beautifully well.

(View original – June 15, 2014)

imageMy favorite pen fits perfectly in my hand. Sleek silver shell, slightly cold at first until warmed by the words it will ink to a page. It has substance, not too heavy, not too light. It knows everything there is to know about me, it has written of my innermost thoughts and wishes and dreams. It’s shared in my heartache and rejoiced in my joy. With my pen in hand we waltz across the page, dancing with words to music no one else can hear.

It didn’t start out as my pen, it belonged to another, who, I have no idea. How I came to have it, or how it came to have me, I can’t recall. One day it was just mine, it became an extension of my soul. When I first touched it to a blank page, I watched the dark, black ink seeping into the stark white paper and I saw pure and perfect beauty. Never has a pen touched the page so softly, leaving such a smooth trail of elegance wherever it goes.

My children often try to take it; my husband seeks to steal it away from me. My perfect pen is wanted by all. I carry it with me wherever I go. I’m not the type to lie, but if someone asks if I have a pen they can borrow the only answer there can be is no. It’s not really a lie because my pen is so much more than just a pen; It’s my partner, my confidant and my friend.

I’ve used many others, but this one has something they did not, I know not what it is, but I feel it when I hold it in my hand. Some may not understand, I don’t quite understand it myself, I simply know it is a special pen. I wonder what hands have held it before. I wonder if they knew what a treasure they held. I wonder if they search for it still.

I hope to keep it always; I doubt I could ever find another good enough to take its place. Is it odd to hold such attachment to an ordinary object, one disposable to most, irreplaceable to me? My pen is my pen; I’ll care for and keep it as long as I can. It has many more words to put on a page.

Crystal R. Cook

My Favorite Things

Beauty and music, sunshine and light,
the wings of a dove softly rustling in flight.
The smell of the morning after summers rain,
crackling campfires and bubbling champagne.
Voices of children singing songs of praise,
the evening mist and long autumn days.
The changing of seasons, a moment of prayer,
goosebumps and laughter, my favorite chair.
Being lost in a moment, the voice of a friend,
being held in a hug I hope never ends.
The way my cheeks feel coming in from the cold,
the softness of hands as they begin to grow old.
Sincerity and honesty, faith, hope, and love,
knowing that God is somewhere above.
The presence of angels, a wonderful dream,
having a bowl of my favorite ice cream.
Snuggles and cuddles and soft babies feet,
that fleeting moment my house is tidy and neat.
Sweet memories to cherish, tears of sadness and joy,
pictures in albums, my childhood toy.
Sharing a secret, shouting out loud,
laying back in the sun, guessing shapes in the clouds.
Rain on the rooftop, silence so still,
meadows and forests, lacy frost on the sill.
The power of prayer, uninterrupted sleep,
making a promise I know I will keep.
Sitting and thinking of my favorite things,
like cupcakes and flowers and angels wings.
The innocent sweetness of loves first kiss,
and penning my thoughts to a page like this.
Crystal R. Cook

My Favorite Things

image

Beauty and music, sunshine and light,
the wings of a dove, softly rustling in flight.

The smell of the morning after summers rain,
crackling campfires, and bubbling champagne.

Voices of children, singing songs of praise,
the evening mist, and long autumn days.

The changing of seasons, a moment of prayer,
goosebumps and laughter, my favorite chair.

Being lost in a moment, the voice of a friend,
being held in a hug I hope never ends.

The way my cheeks feel coming in from the cold,
the softness of hands as they begin to grow old.

Sincerity and honesty, faith, hope and love,
knowing that God is somewhere above.

The presence of angels, a wonderful dream,
having a bowl of my favorite ice cream.

Snuggles and cuddles and soft babies feet,
that fleeting moment my house is tidy and neat.

Sweet memories to cherish, tears of sadness and joy,
pictures in albums, my childhood toy.

Sharing a secret, shouting out loud,
laying back in the sun, guessing shapes in the clouds.

Rain on the rooftop, silence so still,
meadows and forests, lacy frost on the sill.

The power of prayer, uninterrupted sleep,
making a promise I know I will keep.

Sitting and thinking of my favorite things,
like cupcakes and flowers and angel’s wings.

The innocent sweetness of love’s first kiss,
and simply sharing my thoughts with a friend like this.

(c) Crystal R. Cook