Identical Baths

Identical baths

Marriage saved from derailment

Blissful DIY*

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

*Do It Yourself:

abbreviation for do-it-yourself: the activity of decorating or repairing your home, or making things for your home yourself, rather than paying someone else to do it for you.

Nothing of Value Lost

Reena’s Prompt:

“He had lost everything of value to him. There was an empty canvas on the easel, his colors and tools. What would he paint?”


He had lost everything of value

To him…there was an empty

Canvas on the easel, his colors

And tools…what would he paint?

I tell him he has only lost

His perspective, merely a

Cloud, soon to move along.

He has wealth, talent

Unstructured time to fill

As he pleases…and has he

Forgotten?  He has me.

I ask if he remembers

The day we met, when I

Was still a child.


He wipes un-shed tears

On his denim shirtsleeve

Smile tracing shyly ’round

His perfectly etched lips.

“Yes”, he says, “you thought

I was really something.”


“I knew you would save

My life,” I say.


“And now you want

To save mine, huh?

You can’t hold back

Time, Love…I’m an

Old man.”


He used to say I

Kept him young.

I tell him time, the whole

World, stopped when I

First saw him…my heart

Locked upon his eyes, the

Planes of his face

Excruciatingly handsome

And his voice became

Melody e’er repeating

Through my mind.


Ego salved, he asks

“Shall I paint you another


He knows I never tire of them

Nor tropical flowers he

Brings to life in acrylics.


“Why not try painting ‘love'”

I whisper, blush rising ‘gainst

My cheeks, forever flame.

He studies me, muses, asks

“Think you could hold a pose

Long enough for me?”

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations,  2020 ~ All rights reserved.

New Year, Old Hearts

After celebratory sounds subside

Fireworks, neighborhood festivity

We sit silent together, side by side

Words unneeded, thoughts woven intricately

We’ve watched calendar pages, wish-filled, waft

Bearing hopeful plans, and prayers aloft

While seasons of love in youth’s flight almost blur

Mem’ries, matched moments, embers linger

Our gnarled hands reach, as if on cue, your eyes

Speak timeless language in forget-me-not blue

We’ve lived sea’s tidal melody, constancy…

Another year and decade new

Two old hearts bound strong, e’er true

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.