This is a chronicle of ten fierce years; snapshots of happy times, sad times, love coming together and love torn apart. The writing style varies dependant on the topic, the mood, the moon. Like a written form of I Spy, the images can be misleading and the subjects may be obscure. Find here the shreds left when life's parade has moved on.
Sherrie gives an overview of the book:
So, you kissed me You can’t hold your own nickel in this quarter. So, you kissed me. I’m to good to be true; don’t want me to go away. So, you kissed me. Don’t know who you are, what you want; but let’s set some fires. So, you kissed me. Let me put it on Lay-away; if I don’t want it after, it was only a little down payment. So, you kissed me. You’re just a child living an adult fantasy. So, you kissed me. My feelings don’t count. And if you break me, it’s my own damn fault. ‘Cause I kissed you back.
Talk to me before I sleep Talk to me before I sleepLay your hand upon my cheek Talk to me before I sleepAll the years are yours to keep Talk to me before I sleepFold me deep within your speech Talk to me before I sleepHold me tight when I start to reach Talk to me before I sleepNever let me touch the sheet Talk to me before I sleepWarm me with your wondrous heat Talk to me before I sleepPrecious are the things you teach Talk to me before I sleepLove and kindness is how you greet Talk to me before I sleepInto darkness let me seep Talk to me before I sleepIn my dreams it’s you I seek Talk to me before I sleepI fear that I am in too deep Talk to me before I sleepWake me to the morning dew Talk to me before I sleepLet me know it’s always you
Bittersweet Birch Because he died in my arms he is mineBelongs to me in a way that no one else couldI am not haunted, but wreathed in a companionable yearningIt’s not the house we died in or the way we died which binds usThe gratuitous nature of our affection holds court ever-presentMisunderstood our grief is silent even when there is soundPalpable pain is the gift of memory; the charm of deathI hold his smile with my eyes and hear that infectious laughI have been shortchanged of time; endowed with certitude Cancer is a slow march like no otherWe laced our boots, parading together down that narrow streetWhen the end came we did not partWe go piggyback in two worldsBecause what’s mine is mineAnd he is not lost.
Sherrie Theriault writer and outsider artist lives in northwest New Jersey where she writes villain-free fiction for children, creates coloring books for all ages, writes daily inspiration books for the recovery community and has other works of collected poetry.
Books available on Amazon.com include the following:
Can you See?
The Holland’s Adventure,
Fill Me In
Fill Me In, too
Sober on the Way to Sane,
More Sober on the Way to Sane,
My Sponsor Said…
Elissa: Queen of Carthage
Order of Protection
Was Love Lost
The Deep Dark Day In
What the Birdies Told Me About You
Sober on the Way to Sane, Was Love Lost and Fill Me In are also available at Blue Stockings, Manhattan, NY. You can find Sherrie’s art work at Hang-Ups Gallery in Allentown, PA or online at SerendipitousGallery.com Please feel free to contact her there if you have any questions
Sherrie Theriault writer and outsider artist lives in northwest New Jersey where she writes villain-free fiction for children, creates coloring books for all ages, writes daily inspiration books for the recovery community and has other works of collected poetry. Books...