There is still one thought, I cannot see.
It pertains to the rhyming of poetry.
No matter the journey; No matter how far,
My task is putting my thoughts into a jar.
A jar that when I remove the lid,
Will emit words of the adventures, I did.
Writing down this most random thought
I am always interested to see what I wrought.
Sometimes these words are just sitting there,
Magically they would appear, out of thin air.

I must go now, I really must.
Trust is a word, used by a few,
I trust not others but do trust you.
I will do so until I have turned to dust.

I walk at night.
I walk alone,
On my way,
without my phone.
There is no distraction.
No music to hear,
As I face my worries,
While acknowledging my fear.

A fear of failure now,
As your slow decline
Of memory loss,
Increases the damage.
Increases the cost
Of caring for you.
In a manner of good
For you my sweet one,
It must be understood,
For you can't help yourself,
On this Summer Day.
When you talk to me,
Upon rising and you say,
"What do I do next?"

So there I was,
talking out loud,
it was because,
I was in a crowd.
A crowd? Wait one,
I must admit,
the quiet has been nice,
but not at the
cost of the life
of others, of who I read.
No longer with us,
so many are dead.
Say what you will.
Do what is right.
How in the World,
do you sleep at night?