Magazine Posts

You were my love,
'twas always to be.
You're still my love
but you don't know me.

I have been
running on empty
for a long while.
To sleep again,
then I'll smile.

Why the heart ache?
A heart can't shatter,
it certainly can't break.
The emotional pain,
stomach queasiness,
brings forth so many
memories to me.
I recall. She does not.
Memories, made together,
now forgotten by her,
rips a hole in my heart,
which will remain,
until my mind is gone.

I awake with a start.
It's 3:45 in the morning.
My wife is patting my head.
I say, "I have to go"
and she replies, "Come back to bed."
I tell her I will, as I
do not want to get up yet.
Here I am now, pen in hand,
writing words to paper,
for I don't understand.
My vague recollection, is now
on "seek" for I believe
she has been awake and
not asleep. Her behavior
has changed, something into,
I not sure how to handle,
this change which I view.

(Three months later, we will
admit her to a memory care
facility as her Dementia is
moving towards Alzheimer.)

Why has our life
become so awkwardly hard?
Is this life's game,
we drew a bad card
Why does it happen,
with a "Just God?"
Why has God, abandoned thee?
You led a good life
and don't deserve to be,
left in life's shambles
of our family.

Run with me
to the top of the wall.
I need you with me,
lest I stumble and fall,
for if I do, it will be
the end of it all.

Jumbled up words,
inane they are.
Bragging by some,
thoughts were afar.

No matter the choice
of where you seat,
you will find
life in your feet.
Move your chair
to another place.
It's really ok,
not a disgrace.

I wish I could be
everything to you,
by making a list
of things to do.
You are my light,
my beckoning soul.
I hope to be
everything to you,
but feel I've failed
in answering who,
caused the disease
to come through,
destroying all your
memories, so true.

What was the light
gleam in your eye?
Why do you love me?
Why do we try?

Loving arms
encircling my waist.
What's the hurry,
why the haste?

You will ask me,
"Who are you?"
each morning,
asking me who.

I can only say,
it's me,
not a stranger,
your husband, see?

An Arroya, a Canyon,
a space 'tween your ears,
enough room for worries,
more space for your fears.

No life to live.
No life to lie.
What happens now,
When memories die?

Straight the string,
to my heart,
tied to my Souls
emotional plight.

Why must I worry
about thee,
when I know your
worry about me?

I hear a worrisome
thought in my head.
I suppose I should
have stayed in bed.