Magazine Posts

When youthful glee,
leaves our soul,
when sadness no longer,
makes you weep,
when the love you have,
for another,
leaves and returns,
no more,
when your emotional being,
has gone away,
will your life,
be any better?
Loneliness will never be,
my preferred life's way.

I see others,
who look like me,
there being no difference,
is what I see.

Is preferential treatment,
for the lunch bunch,
at breakfast, dinner
and for lunch.

An elite group,
I think not.
A clique in retirement,
not what I want.

I don't understand,
what you have helped me be,
but I am enjoying food,
all thanks to thee.

An amazing person,
what you are to me.
Don't leave us here,
please do not flee.

Walk with me,
my young child.
One pace behind,
will be our style.

Hurry you, not,
slow our pace.
A graceful walk,
full of grace.

Quiet will be,
our private walk,
as you listen,
as I talk.

I have much,
which I will tell.
When we are quiet,
there's no need to yell.

When we walk
in this way,
we will truly have
a blessed day.

All the words,
jammed into my head.
Spontaneous words,
words to be read.

write them,
on paper white,
writing slowly,
they'll be alright.

Avoid using,
those words old
be they skinny,
Or be they cold

Words will find,
their own place,
if you write about
a smiling face.

Love me now,
or not at all,
be it Winter,
Spring, Summer or Fall.

My want in life
is a happy you.
My wish is to know,
what I can do.

Yesterday, I saw you,
you kept asking me,
"Who are you?"
Joy is when I see,
you, although,
you don't know me.

Here I sit alone,
not what I expected,
when growing up,
when I was young.

When life was smooth
and then everts,
your emotions jumbled.
They will hurt.

All the things we know.
All the things we do,
change for us,
when we move.

All the confusion,
not knowing where,
the tools we use,
gone, we are unaware.

Not just your life
will change,
but all your habits,
will be rearranged.

The trauma which
is upon you now,
is composed of
what, who and how.

Ducks will waddle,
chickens will dance,
turkeys will gobble,
doves will romance.

Crows will caw,
bluebirds will sing.
Get too close
they'll take to wing.

Happy Birthday,
my mother, dear.
Missing you, so,
wish you were here.

You have been gone,
now seventeen years.
Please help me,
calm my fears.

Residents wander
around the floor,
searching for those,
not with us, anymore.

It was wet,
speed too fast.
Driving like this,
wouldn't last.

Tires were sliding,
across pavement and stone.
He was thankful,
he was driving alone.

Spinning, he was,
the car left the road,
somersaulting over
the ditch. Losing his load.