{"id":23768,"date":"2016-08-13T19:06:19","date_gmt":"2016-08-13T23:06:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=23768"},"modified":"2016-09-07T18:49:10","modified_gmt":"2016-09-07T22:49:10","slug":"phrase-florist-2016-marathon-poem10-brenna","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/phrase-florist-2016-marathon-poem10-brenna\/","title":{"rendered":"Phrase Florist 2016 Marathon Poem#10: Brenna Moments"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>Brenna Moments<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Hazel eyes, dirty blonde hair, smile that warms my heart &#8211; even in moments of anger and rage.<\/p>\n<p>An artistic soul, she dances with paintbrushes and always sees light &#8211; in the darkest of moments.<\/p>\n<p>Her birth reigns as one of my most precious life events &#8211; a moment to never forget or regret.<\/p>\n<p>Life without her would seem pointless and empty &#8211; a string of moments shallow and gray.<\/p>\n<p>When I get to Heaven and God asks how I fared &#8211; the moments with her will be all he need hear.<\/p>\n<p>My daughter is all that matters, but don&#8217;t tell my husband &#8211; he thinks the day we met is my moment de jour.<\/p>\n<p>She&#8217;ll read these words and grin at me, embarrassed &#8211; this sweet moment I&#8217;ll add to my collection of her.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-23871\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/B-Lone-Alone-by-Jody-T.-Morse-832-978-2280-244x300.jpg\" alt=\"B &amp; Lone Alone by Jody T. Morse 832-978-2280\" width=\"244\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/B-Lone-Alone-by-Jody-T.-Morse-832-978-2280-244x300.jpg 244w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/B-Lone-Alone-by-Jody-T.-Morse-832-978-2280-768x945.jpg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/B-Lone-Alone-by-Jody-T.-Morse-832-978-2280-832x1024.jpg 832w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 244px) 100vw, 244px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Brenna Moments Hazel eyes, dirty blonde hair, smile that warms my heart &#8211; even in moments of anger and rage. An artistic soul, she dances with paintbrushes and always sees light &#8211; in the darkest of moments. Her birth reigns as one of my most&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":810,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23768","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23768","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/810"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23768"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23768\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":30010,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23768\/revisions\/30010"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23768"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23768"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23768"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}