Once a long time ago two young girls collaborated, playing was not good enough.The most memorable business venture was a restaurant, the very appropriately named 
"SHIRMAR" as these two young girls were named Shirley and Mary. A basement restaurant with folding tables, table cloths. People flocked to dine there, well more truly, sooner or later they were forced to humor them. Sadly the Shirmar was forced to close, due to adolescence and lack of interest.


Several years later, the two young girls went on their separate ways, marriage, kids, failed relationships, loss of loved ones,  loss of each other. Somehow they found each other again, and time, experiences, pain, sorrow, joy and finally some peace did not seem to be an obstacle.  The years apart served only to give them both a deeper understanding and appreciation of each other. 


One thing they had always had in common was their love for art, whether it be words, the brush, a plate of food, they liked to create.  They also shared a love for a woman named Patricia Joyce McCord Esworthy Carter, mom to Mary by relation, to Shirley by heart.  


She encouraged us all, believed in all our dreams, shared our passion and in her eyes we were the most talented of artists. You could worry her but if she was ever disappointed it seemed she always turned it inward, probably too much. 


It seems fitting that the passion she had for painting she shared with Shirley and her love for the written word she shared with Mary.  So some 40+ odd years later, the SHIRMAR long gone, but the collaborators joined again. 


My friend Shirley is a talented painter, capturing scenes which allow you to escape into your dreams of peace, sunlight and oceans.  I write for those I love,  I hope my words allow me to share feelings that I am not able to say, let others find their feelings.  I hope I show the proper respect for Shirley's painting and Mom, for both of us, all of us. I hope I don't fall short.  

Mom

I see an empty chair

And think of you

Sitting somewhere, peaceful view

You never made a fuss

It wasn’t your style

Just a corner of your own, little smile

You would watch

The goings on with care

Center of attention, not there

To be near the ocean

The dream inside

A part of you, ebb and tide

Like many others

Dreams you let go

Put us before you, we know

A passion for the water

A talent with a brush

Life taking care of us, a rush

Did we say thank you

Do you know what you meant

Rescuing us every time, life spent

The empty chair

It saddened me

You never got to relax, the sea

Then I’d recall

Sitting next to you, deck or yard

Look in your eyes, no guard

The blue of your eyes

A reflection of ocean hues

Content you seemed, no dues

I keep an empty chair

It is for always for you

I look at it, see an ocean view

There is another

We take our turn, the second chair

Thoughts, worries, dreams, you there

Two chairs slightly facing

Looking inward and slightly out

That you are in one, no doubt