my private coney presents : IT WAS HER NEW YORK: A Poem Becomes Her

The picture of her and Baby Boy, snapped quickly with an old Instamatic and real film, has been in each and every old filofax calendar lugged about in handbags and satchels. A photo in a phone could never be this loved, bent from being taken out over and over again to show life and love, history and family.

When there is great beauty, there are fewer words, and hands scoop up paint or cameras, attempting to tell the poem offered by a sunset or a heartbeat, or sorrow and loss, and sometimes even the sharing of the inevitable journey into the unknown.

"There needs to be another word for what we are to each other than family because it is so much better than that," she said recently.

Poem. Poem works.

Letters At The Speed Of...

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GUEST ARTIST: Sunday Memories: Joni's Coney

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part XII

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part XI

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part X

GUEST ARTIST: Sunday Memories: It Was Her New York - Part IX

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part VIII

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part VII

GUEST ARTIST: Sunday Memories: It Was Her New York - Part VI

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part V

GUEST ARTIST: It Was Her New York - Part IV