the chill

a favorite thing: Photo Credit by Tremaine L. Loadholt

when the chill hits at
just the right moment,
I cuddle up with my
old lady, sip on some
peppermint brew, and watch
my favorite animated Christmas
movies.

the crisp air outside can
stay bolted to the night–I’ll
find warmth nestling under
her love.
the phone bleeps, and it’s you.
your dimpled face appears,
and you tell me about something
that had you balled-over from
laughter, and the only thing
I can think of is how
amazing it would be
to be under or over
you, instead.

I lean back, sink into
the pressing of my chair,
and dream of a place where
Christmas lies on your lips
and I am opening you
as my gift, instead.

another favorite thing. The Old Lady, The Little Monster, Jernee Timid Loadholt. Photo Credit by Tremaine L. Loadholt

Holding On To the Simple Things in Life

Photo by Glenna Rankin via ReShot

Amazoned a Pour-Over Coffee maker–
brand name, Bodum–black, and
the sheer level of excitement sweeping
over me has no name.

I even purchased an extra filter,
a pour-over kettle, and a bag of
decaffeinated chocolate fudge nut
coffee, all due to hit my doorstep
within one week.

You may be thinking to yourself,
“Why is she sharing this info with us?”
And I understand why you’d venture
to ask yourself this question.

This purchase makes me happy.
I am delighted with taking on
something new pertaining to
how I make my coffee.

A long-time friend and
still desirable crush
put me on to this method of
brewing coffee as his palate
is a snobby one.

He’s a coffee
connoisseur–no shame about it,
and I want to give my taste buds
the joy of experiencing something
culture-current–smooth–intoxicating.

A woman I dated years ago
was the same way.

Her coffee
had to be blessed by prayed
over hands, no hotter than
lukewarm–sugared to perfection,
and strong enough to get
her through the day.

What better time to take a
step towards ushering in
pure joy while I still can
than right now?

Holding on to the simple
things in life has been my
staple–my way of breathing
during rough times, and I doubt

I’ll be letting go
anytime soon.


©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt Originally published via Simily.

Smooth as a Fresh Cup of Pour-Over Coffee

Musical Selection: L.T.D.|Holding On (When Love Is Gone)

Flash Fiction

I didn’t think he’d see me staring at him. I tried to fiddle with the People magazine in my hand — darted my eyes over the cuckoo clock above the Barista’s head.

He spotted me. And I couldn’t backpedal, couldn’t turn away fast enough. He was the color of pre-evening with onyx eyes and a James Earl Jones voice.

My entire body convulsed when he said, “I think you dropped this.” I looked down and he was holding my pen. I had been tackling a crossword puzzle, and the sleek writing tool must’ve escaped my grip when I saw him.

“I, uh … Yes, that’s mine.” I started tripping over my words. What was I doing?! Where was my head? I dragged the pen from his grip.

“I’m Loyal.” He extended his very manicured right hand to me.

“Um … I’m trustworthy.”

He giggled. I heard cherubs singing. I hadn’t caught the humor until he casually said, “No. Loyal is my name. Loyal Manor.”

His hand was still waiting for mine. I slapped it nervously, cupped it, then gave it two quick shakes.

“Oh! Oh! Haha. My apologies. I’m Grace … Grace Baron. It’s nice to meet you, Loyal.”

I glanced over at the Barista, who flawlessly prepares my order daily, and she flashed me a wink.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your puzzle, Grace. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“WILL I?! I mean … Sure, I’ll be here.”

The dimple in his left cheek made my acquaintance, and I became as giddy as a schoolgirl. Everything about Loyal was smooth as a cup of pour-over coffee, and I wanted to learn more about him.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Grace Baron.”

“Uh huh. Yes. Yes, you will.”

He turned to exit the building, and I knew it was rude to watch, but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t dreaming.

The Barista tipped her hat in my direction, and flashed me another wink. The server bought me a second cup of coffee and patted my hand. A piece of paper bounced off my knuckles.

There, on a strawberry-scented blueprint piece of stationery, was Loyal’s phone number.


©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

Irish Cream

Lune #20 of 25

Baileyscreamer
Bailey’s Irish Cream Coffee Creamer

Bailey’s Irish Cream
gives coffee
the kick that it needs


*A lune (rhymes with moon) is a very short poem. It has only three lines. It is similar to a haiku. A haiku has three lines, and it follows a 5/7/5 syllable pattern. The lune’s syllable pattern is 5/3/5. Since the middle line is limited to three syllables, it is often the shortest line of the three. This makes a lune curve a bit like a crescent moon.

For the next twenty-five days, except Saturdays and Sundays, I will share a lune with each of you. This is Lune #20 of this project.