Magazine Posts

I don't care.
Not anymore.
My hearts shattered,
laying on the floor.

She can't help it,
rings in my head.
She won't remember,
those words I dread.

When the one you love,
is angry, seeing in her face,
with hate for you in her eyes,
I know I've lost the race.

I love you
the way you are,
keeping your distance,
when close or afar.

Eye of the needle,
heft of the sword.
What is the meaning,
if love is only a word?

You are young, active,
with the bluest eyes,
a no-nonsense approach,
why is it not a surprise?

Be the one.
Be who you are,
there is no other,
alive, like you.

As I approach, life's end
I pray when it's near,
you will come visit
and appear.

Provide comfort to me,
as I grow old
and more confused,
before my body is cold.

I'm tired.
Waking at 3:30,
staying in bed,
until 4:20.
Getting up at 5:55,
how did I spend
2 plus hours,
before showering
and getting dressed, then,
off to breakfast.

The days grow long,
with nights retreat.
Days are warmer,
a Spring treat.

I thought I had my emotions,
under control.
I was mistaken.
The ugliness of this disease,
is beyond description.

She got mad at me,
wandering away.
I messed up, by not going
after her.
She went into the kitchen,
of the Dining hall and was
yelling at people.

I went and returned her to
the table where our dinner, was
waiting. She didn't want to eat.
I managed to get her to eat.
She had calmed down.

I took her back to memory care
and she got mad at me. Not sure
why. She cussed me out, told me
to leave, etc.
So, I did.

Now I sit in my room all
teary eyed and upset with
myself. I do not like myself,
at the moment although I
do understand, it probably
wasn't anything I did.

Sorry for the laying this out
for you all.
Thank you for your patience and
understanding.

Down through the valley,
across the great divide,
I will wait for you
at evening tide.

My favorite spot,
will always be,
at Cannon Beach,
on the Pacific Sea.

We have gone there,
for so many years.
No longer a destination,
gone with the fear,

of never seeing you,
the way I did then,
when our love was fresh
and where it began.

To love again,
may never come.
That will be fine,
I can enjoy someone.

Conversations are enough,
to work my mind,
meeting others, perhaps
one of a kind.

Trying to stop,
using the time,
avoiding the
sing, song rhyme

I tire now,
of writing verse.
Perhaps my words,
need a hearse?

Have the words,
lie in state,
hoping them
to be sedate.