http://slow.writerscafe.org/maiarosenbaum The original writings of author amomentforus en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775425315 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A typo, and deciding to roll with it http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2889513/ The cyclicality of time never fails to surprise me, it is spring again. and so the favored time to rear its head. Thinking of endingsas life starts again,perhaps that is the final breath of death. Starting again,never coming back.To celebrate growth as mourningnow must end.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2889233/ playing around with line breaks after having read Rod McKuen http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2889104/ nonense, but isn't that what the most of this thing we are doing is http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2888447/ Torrents of petalsflow into gutters,it is spring again. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2888160/ A story overheard (and then embellished) on the subway http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2887866/ Loving you, a mannerism. 40 years of my hand on your thigh, and I don't think it knows rest anywhere else. The unlooking rubs of your back. Time only passed, there when my withered fingers noticed your softened skin. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2887609/ another generation lostto a long winter, hopingto see spring again  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2887269/ Rings stain the walls, at the height of our tears we forgave and remembered the time. The small hand ticking backwards. Grazing our cheeks, lovingly. Like the fields we stamped under hurried feet. There was no place to go. Down, down the hallowed halls of memories passed. A .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2886891/ Waiting at a bar, but not looking at the door. A subtle thrum on the wood. Drinking beer like drinking water. A budding couple, a couple spots down, easing into the drunk. Battery powered candles flicker, an artificial waver, maybe we are equally unsure. Only someone else able to tell us when our ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2886769/ It was a staircase to heaven. A never ending climb upwards, against gravity, against most odds and without promise of ever reaching the top. It was good though, right? Trudging with our heads down, lungs burning. Our knees wobbled at first but then they got too weak to even warrant that extra expend.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2886533/ Summer, a blinding light       Diamonds reflected on the floor. There was never any rhythm  to a song spoken out of fair lips, a broken kiss, or an excuse to call home.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2886403/ My hair smells like cigarettes, but no worse than your fingers. The mattress on the floor squeaking every time you roll over and pull me closer.I don’t know if I’ll miss you yet,like the way you talk about Ocean City. Your friends are there and your reason to be in this co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2886063/ Worn in tattoosAn old man, before you found Youth.Laugh lines like scarsOf better times, in dark bars, and memory persists a wasted wish,thinking it will come back again,but maybe that place just doesn’t exist http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2886050/ Change its name. Giving back to the livinga reason. To keep a promise regardless of the pain. Words we never meant more,then when they were said in vain http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2885922/ Bright days like lucky love or lucky to be in love with you. Like the moon, in shadow, I will rest awhile. Days spent by the Seineor in the Sun, how lovely the shade of green when it is coming off your eyes. Taking pictures of our hands, holding hope whatever they .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2885772/ Absence fills my mo(u)rning.  Just come back next time, okay? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2885662/ Day stretched shadows over fields plowed in vain, letting weeds run rampant, like laughterslipping out everytimewe remembered the days,in the woods, or in the barn, 10 dollar couches thrown into bonfires, a beacon to what could have been known, if words were ever going to be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2885585/ I met you today and your birthday is tomorrow. 2 years ago and every day. Time to mourn Memory. And be grateful it slips past. I don’t remember to tell the difference most times. Loving you most when I miss you. And I think I always miss you. I wrote your card two years ago and the words haven.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2885202/ 2/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2885088/ 1/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2884988/ “This is a eulogy to the living,”  you said. Looking over scattered groups under scattered clouds, all finding comfort between green and warmth.  “Everyone is doing it exactly right now and they don’t need to know it.”Scoffing,“we are smaller in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2884798/ And then life happened. It just didn’t happen to us.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2884702/ I’m going to call you on your birthday, hoping you won’t pick up, to leavea voicemail, an eternal plea. To that young part of my heart that still loves youimmortality, alone could answer the callto keep us there and save usthe time and space wasted,pretending we never were&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2884332/ A muddled man half fullWere we stars before this?Or did ash just turn to dustAnd back again we ranDown soiled lines in suits too bigBut that seemed to suit us just fineWas it all going to happen again?If we were ever to go backI’d kiss your palms and bite my neckI think we loved each other bef.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2884176/ Sevilla, at night April 2022 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2884175/ I don’t know why I hang hope in haggard hearts, and I like that line like green shoots of grass tickling my feet, thinking I have a resistance to cortisol. It is gloomy here, you’d know if you ever looked out the window and I just want to hunker in and hunker down but not yet and maybe n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883897/ The arbitrariness of a day. Spent in woe and in its wake we awaken dreams long thought dead or at least not meant to crawl out of shallow graves dug in vain. For what was above at all times, if we looked up and saw branches not just the roots of all of what we could have been. I’m sorry I said.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883886/ Head held over high water, looking down and looking back. Let it sleep. Let it slip, through fingers worn thin and relish the moment we forgot, aching to do it again. Our buckets dredge the bottom of that merciless current. Tying handkerchiefs around our heads and under our necks, no white flags lef.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883752/ And if I have to go back. To every place we ever laughed, telling jokes between stories of better times, I was never going to be a part of. Memory, the fellow fool hung, between our breaths. And aimless tours in shop windows, pointing out all the things we didn’t want.On the bus again, I now l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883751/ He spent a lot of time looking at the ceiling. He didn’t have a choice and after the first few times of getting it repainted, he realized, either way, it was going to bore him. Sooner or later. And the smell of fresh paint made his nose itch. He had his wife project images on the ceiling. Figu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883749/ And writing about our joy never seemed to do any good.We could never remember it that way. When it countedit left us quickly, tracing shadows and hunting pride. Sometimes I wish I had known you, and sometimesI realize I never really had. A reason to call homewhen the days were dark. Or when it .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883748/ A conversation over years, between people who can never really seem to manage to say what they mean. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiarosenbaum/2883747/