With a melodic cadance
he marches into her world each night
and becomes her mainstay.

He massages her spirits
with his mastery of emotions,
and through her heart he meanders.

Each night when he is ready to leave,
he takes a momento from her soul
and adds it to his memorial.

So when his masterpiece crumbles
he can remember loves melody
and reminisce.
 

Bobbie Kilzer
9/18/96
copywrite
 

She hung onto his words
like the dew of early morning
hangs onto the underside
of the rose petals
in her Mother's garden.

She had never heard such words,
words dripping with the savvy of a gentleman
raised in proper southern tradition.

Words reminiscent of a time, long past,
where culture was valued and proper manners
were cherished as much as one's good name.

Little did she realize that the words
evaporate in the heat of the day,
only to begin forming again as the sky darkened.

Night Words
 

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain 8/22/96
 

She would hide his gun in my dresser drawer,

Whenever my Father would start pacing the floor.

Hardwoods and alcohol do not mix well,

Three fingered shots into a raging hell.
 

….And now I lay me down to sleep,

My life till morning let me keep.

Please no longer let me hear

The stomping feet bringing fear.
 

At last, feeling safe when we could hear him snore,

Attention returns to the gun in the drawer.

She would take it back to its regular place

And cover with makeup the tears on her face.
 

Come morning , we'd have Cheerios for breakfast.
 
 

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain

10/19/99