Magazine Posts

A swirling wind,
as Dust Devils climb,
spinning the dirt
into small spirals.
A gust, a burst
on a breezy day
will clear the air,
or so they say,
as I watch
leaves blow away.

I write the words with something more,
for the words I write, please explore.
Tell me if they strike a chord
or if they are too short, trite of word.

What kind of a person,
What kind of a fool,
Would steal a sack lunch,
When they are at school?
A hungry one.

How old am I now?
I must have lost track.
I am old as can be
And feel death's breath on my back.

When words are hanging from
the low branches of the Word tree,
falling to a paper page where
we save and others can see,
the thoughts which are entwined
in this rambling prose of mine.

There are no words
I can say to you.
There is no action,
Of which I'll do,.
I miss you more,
Than I can pretend,
For I fear,
Our life will soon
Be at the end.

I do know one thing about you.
It doesn't matter what you may do,
For all the World, of which I see,
You are still the best part of me.

Be still my love.
Be still tonight,
For tomorrow will bring,
A new, everlasting light.

When love is tender.
When love is right,
Love will last us
Through the long night.

I think of you often,
but then, again,
you have always been,
the best friend.
You know who you are,
so let it be,
a friend for a wretch,
exactly like me.
I try to be humble,
not hard to do,
making it difficult
when not seeing you.
I will keep trying
at my own pace,
until such time,
I am gone from
this saddest place.

The morning is cool,
as is the night.
The afternoon sunny,
what a treasured delight.

What will happen to you and I
if life gets worse; and we don't try
to change the course of our History
by returning to a life of love and civility?