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Beneath, the bluest of skies,
I pause to listen
And wonder why,
The World, was made to be,
Only as reflective,
As I might be.
In these days of
Passing time,
I would be inclined,
To drink from cups,
In slurping gulps,
A lot of wine.
I ask the question
Or may imply,
That life goes on,
Though you may die
And no one will wonder,
When time does pass,
That you end up flat,
Behind that, which must be,
From here until senility.

Thoughts, turn and twist, within my mind,
Thrashing about. Thoughts, without reason
Or rhyme.
Empty, hollow thinking,
Of the nothingness,
That lies, within.

Two ships, passing through the night
Is an often used, sweet, refrain.
The wayward glance, is a slight,
Comment on loneliness, that comes not again.
For all are strangers, in our sight,
The time wont last and will remain,
Lodged, in our mind, on that night
And will never be the same.

If, I may say
On this fine day,
That, I do think,
Without a blink
Of my hazel eyes
And with no sighs
Or moans, so trite,
Being with you tonight
Would make this day,
For one to pray
And from up above,
Find you, my love.

The Crow, came to visit me,
Just the other day.
I know, because the cawing,
Distracted me away,
From the flowers I was planting.

I told the noisy Crow,
"I hear you"
But please, do go away,
As all of my work, needs
Not to be, lead astray,
When I plant the seeds
For flowers, that will
Be blooming, in the Spring.
The Crow, still sat,
Amongst the Hemlock tree,
Watching me, as I plant,
The seeds of flowers, yet to be.

I feel alone, yet you are here,
Sitting next to me, so elegantly.
Our conversations, are minimal,
No words come, from you to me.
Logical discussions, do not occur,
As listening is not your forte.
When an idea, gets into your head
And I explain, or try to say,
The way things should be.
You keep bringing up the same
Subject, over again, with no finality.
Why must Dementia
Steal you away from me?
You are a happy person
And yet, it must painfully be
A frustration to you, as
Much as it is to me.
I love you and anguish so
To see you slip away
From our life long loves.
I beg of you, my God,
Oh please let her stay,
If not for tomorrow,
At least for today.

The world stops moving,
When I am away from you.
Even all of my loving,
Doesn't help me to do
The things that are important,
For a continued existence, of who
In this world, of flower and plants,
And so, I say goodnight, to you.

Life can be so tiring,
For those, who just want to do,
The daily tasks of living
But can't finish, even one or two,
Of those simple tasks.

Please come here, my sweet love.
Runaway with me.
We can leave, on the morrow,
Across the sea,
To an exotic isle, of sand,
Sun and thee.

The question, is for me to say,
On such a grand and glorious day,
When I awake, at early morning light,
Is what I write, so very trite?

Love's a river going out to sea,
Full of passion, for you and me.
Passion's compelling emotion, a force to be,
Letting people know, my love for thee.