Magazine Posts

Here I am Lord,
sitting with pen in hand.
You made me no promises
of when my time would end.
My life has shortened,
as the days pass by.
I will not ask you
if I can still write Goodbye.

I've lost control,
of this stage of life,
seeing the damage Dementia
has done to my wife.
There are lucid moments,
in day time and night,
but there is a weirdness,
when Sundown takes flight.
Wandering the house,
as a stranger would do.
Please help me Lord,
as my answers are few.

Help me Lord,
Wade the river
Of hate and infamy,
For my step weakens,
Walking where I cannot see.

Thank you, dear Lord
for letting me stay
on this good Earth
for one more day.

He rose from the dead
to take care of you,
so on this good day,
that's what he will do.
Stay safe together,
in your abode.
Confess your sins,
as if he strode,
down your lane,
so long of a time,
he could come again
to take care of all,
no matter the twain.