You Never Know
  
I remember an old song lyric, "where is love"?
Do I search for it, flying in on a white dove?
Is it hidden behind a door or in the sky above?
 
The thought of not having it, is quite sad indeed,
But I don't want to feel that I am so in need,
That I forget, it is all around, taking heed,
Of the fact, quite honestly, it is everywhere.
 
I love my cats, they love me back,
I love my friends, too many to track.
I love my work, or did prior to covid,
Found writing, such a joy, very well hid,
In a corner waiting sedately,
While hanging around, not too blatantly,
For something to break the monotony.
 
Love, It is there, to touch and to feel,
It will be discovered if you want it to heal,
Whatever hurts your heart.
Have you heard, you must do your part,
Take a good long look inside.
Get ready for an unexpected ride,
 
It was there all along...surprise!!!
 
~Carol Ostrow, author of Poems from My Pandemic Pen

*****

My Desk Is A Chaise       
 
Back in the early eighties
my mother and stepfather
bought this curvy armless cloud
and placed it in their bedroom,
facing their Sony Trinitron color TV.
It was my mother’s favorite spot.
It was her boat
and on it she sailed everywhere
the prime-time lineup, Financial News Network,
or her paperback
would take her.
Later, in another apartment
where she was widowed,
this daybed propped her up
and supported her,
repaired her frozen shoulder
and her essence.
The programming and the publishing
were only getting better
with more and more channels
sprouting through the cable box
to bolster her up.
The original fabric
finally gave all it could
and she decided to recover it.
I do not remember precisely
what the original material looked like.
It may have been a paisley.
She knew exactly what she wanted,
a printed velvet,
soft but durable.
She took me with her to the D&D Building.
We could go in as trade
as my stepfather’s architectural LLC
lived on briefly after his demise.
This was my entrèe
into the design showrooms.
I was a newly grown kid
in a candy store,
yet to figure out
that I would need to have
my own business
decorating people’s sanctuaries,
adorning vacant rooms
with tactile fabrics
and hammered brass.
Together we flipped through
rack after rack of fabrics.
Printed velvets were not as popular
at the time, like they are now.
She found one
I didn’t love at first
but now I see it is almost perfect
and it has endured
without a single hole
for over 20 years.
Not only did the upholsterer
recover it,
he rebuilt the inside
so the seat was strong
and sturdy again.
She cruised on that chaise
for almost another decade.
After she died
I moved the piece
into my own bedroom.
Although I had a desk
from where I could run my firm,
I always wound up working
seated on her chaise.
I pay bills on it, talk on the phone
and watch Netflix from it.
I have a regular spot
at my kitchen table, on my sofa in the family room
and certainly, in my bedroom.
It’s time to shop for another gray printed velvet
and call Ramon, my upholsterer.
The springs need a boost
and that fabric that is a constant reminder
of the day my mom introduced me
to the D&D Building,
because she knew it was where I should be,
is fading.
This is how non-pushy mothers
push their daughters
to sail on through.
 
~ Nicole Freezer Rubens, author of The Long Pause and the Short Breath…Poems & Photos & Reflections on New York City’s Pandemic

*****

At the end of the day
 
Who is
What is enduring
What is significant
Who is
It is about solutions
A renaissance
A reformation
What is awkward?
A silent fury?
Some can't change
Some can't let go of what was
Acceptance is unconscionable for some
What is disingenuous is that at the end of the day
We must move forward and break free
What you see and believe is not always what you get
History repeats itself when you don't learn from it
Learning is crucial at the end of the day
 
~Madlyn Epstein Steinhart, author of Put Your Boots on and Dance in the Rain

****

The Penny

 We all know those pennies come from you
And love finding them when least expected
In the most improbable places
Like today’s most stressful morning
Dealing with bureaucracy
Armed with documents
In case
Driving in unknown territory
In snow
Coming home at last
To find one 
In a place I had seen so many times
This day
It hadn’t been there before
Feeling you watching over me
Once again
 
~ Stephanie Sloane, author of Dear Me: Poems of Loss, Grief, and Hope in New York’s Darkest Days