La Musa Delle Rose (an Ode to my poetry mentor)

      

          La Musa Delle Rose 💋

She had a smile...
not the quiet kind,
not the polite kind,
but the kind that could short-circuit a room,
make men rethink their promises,
make women lean in closer just to catch it.

Nona Gerri.
Say her name with reverence 
it already sounds like a poem,
already feels like a toast.

Red lipstick.
Red wine.
Red-blooded laughter
that dared the world to keep pace.
She was plucky...
but not dainty, not delicate.
Plucky like firecrackers.
Plucky like a spark in dry grass.
Strike her spirit
and you better believe sparks flew.

Words?
Oh, she didn’t just write them.
She bent them.
Made them spin,
made them strut,
made them paint pictures
that could crawl under your skin
and stay there.
She could drop a line
that felt like jazz at midnight,
or a sonnet that kissed your forehead,
or a punchline
that left you laughing with sore ribs.

She didn’t ask the world’s permission.
Didn’t wait for its nod.
The world had opinions.
She had moxie.
And moxie wins, every time.

Still...
beneath the lipstick and laughter,
there was grit.
Steel.
A strength that didn’t come from pretending life was easy,
but from wrestling it,
clinking glasses with it,
and walking away undefeated.

Call it stubborn,
call it mullish,
call it what you will
it was love in its fiercest form.
It was loyalty with claws.
It was devotion that didn’t back down.

And you felt it.
If you knew her, you felt it.
That’s the legacy.
Not just the poems,
not just the stories,
but the way she made you believe
you were worth the ink.
Worth the fire.
Worth the fight.

So don’t talk to me about endings.
Talk to me about echoes.
Talk to me about lipstick marks on wine glasses
still sitting in the cupboard.
Talk to me about the way her laugh
still shows up uninvited
and sits at the table like it owns the place.
Because it does.

The Rose Muse?
Yeah...she’s still here.
In our bones.
In our jokes.
In the courage to be loud,
to be bold,
to be a little too much
and never apologize for it.

That’s Nona.
That’s forever.
And if you listen close
you can almost hear her say:

“Don’t dim.
Don’t bow.
Pour the wine.
Paint the words.
And if the world can’t handle you?
Smile wider.
And do it anyway.”

Love and miss you Nona Geri ❤️