yesterday’s storm.

I wanted to share the photos… then they inspired this ‘modified memory’… so you get both…

yesterday's storm. a poem by sandra.Pink sunset (edited only to add text). Photo by Sandra.

Do you remember the time
You snuck into my room
That night after the storm
Back when our love was brand new?
Fresh white powder everywhere…
You took me out to play
Down sloping Chapel Hill
On a stolen dinner tray.
We traced the paths of others
Who slid the hill before,
But gone now fast asleep
Alone down the hill we soared.
It’s cold my dear I whispered.
You laughed at my soft words.
No one is out here, love,
You could scream and not be heard.
All smiles, you led me inside
And peeled off my damp clothes.
Are you still cold my love?
Come with me no one will know.
In silence we slipped into
One of the girls’ showers.
The way you warmed me there
I could have stayed for hours.
In towels we hurried back.
You wouldn’t let me dress.
You wrapped me up in bed,
Laid my head against your chest.
But honey my toes are cold.
You smiled and moved the sheets.
You crawled to the bed’s edge
Used your touch to warm my feet.
I adored that you kissed them,
Every one of my toes.
Maybe I was warm then
But so flustered I don’t know.
You kissed your way to my lips
Whispered and held me tight…
Can we build a snowman…?
Maybe late tomorrow night?

yesterday's storm.
Pink sunset, the second (edited only to add text). Photo by Sandra.


About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Italy, but she would settle for a non-oceanfront home in Italy, too. She loves books, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
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38 Responses to yesterday’s storm.

  1. A beautiful tale. The hero was a man after my own heart. He made it hius job to warm her toes. LOL That is exactly what I would have done. You did a good job this one.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love this tale. Thanks for sharing, Sandra. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. theturtle says:

    Photography , Editing , Writing , Memories 🙂 🙂 🙂
    Turtle Hugs ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  4. What a gorgeous sky! This sounds like a college memory? Wish I’d met a guy like that in college! Very sweet and sexy!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Tiegan says:

    You’re getting better! Rhyme isn’t my cup of tea, but you make it look so goooood. It sounds really natural. Probably my favourite lines right here:

    “Fresh white powder everywhere…
    You took me out to play
    Down sloping Chapel Hill
    On a stolen dinner tray.”

    (I’m a free verse girl.)

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m not sure how to interpret “getting better”… sounds like I sucked before…

      The weird thing is that the first poem I wrote did not rhyme… and one of the first comments I got was someone telling me they liked poetry that rhymes better… so I guess someone will always be disappointed. I have written a few that don’t rhyme. Sometimes I find they don’t sound like they flow. I have a few non-rhyming ones I haven’t posted because I’m not sure about them.

      But what do I know. Until 2 months ago, I never wrote poetry. I really have no idea how to judge my own work before posting. I just review and tweak it until I don’t feel embarrassed to post what I’ve written…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Tiegan says:

        Nope, you didn’t suck before. There’s room for improvement in everyone. Does Clive James suck? No. But he could write even better.

        And yes, you won’t please everyone… but don’t let that dictate what you do and don’t post. I enjoy reading everything you write- I was just say that rhyming poetry is something I personally don’t write.

        I’ve seen some pretty sucky poetry, but yours isn’t it.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Before I started writing it, I didn’t read poetry often. And when I did, I had no idea if what I was reading was “good” or “bad” poetry. Who am I to judge? I can only know whether or not I enjoyed it. I read lots more now, and I like some… and don’t care for some. Just personal preference, I guess…

          But somewhere in my head, I always wondered if the stuff I didn’t care for… the stuff that didn’t seem (to me) like it meant anything or was way too cryptic to understand. To me, that feels like the author is trying to hard to be mysterious or sound smarter than the rest of us. It sort of puts me off. But I still wonder if that’s supposed to be “good” poetry and the stuff I actually liked wasn’t. I have no idea!

          Hell, I have been reading and re-reading my own fiction for years and I love it. I know I’m not the greatest writer of all time, but everything I’ve ever written came from the heart… I pour myself into it. And going back to read it again… I love it more every time. But of course, that doesn’t make it any easier to share it with the world — no one else is connected to it like I am so I never know what sort of reactions to expect!

          Liked by 1 person

  6. Thanks so much for following I really do appreciate it – Fonz

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Beautiful photos! And I love the story. Warmed my heart!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. jsackmom says:

    Gorgeous imagery with your words and a perfect pairing with your sunset picture. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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