Magazine Posts

Like two ships passing,
in the night.
A chance encounter,
we shared our plight.
Long will I remember
the evening delights.
So many years
gone by, when we
were young with a
unique innocence.

Another adventure
in bedlam.
I helped get my wife,
ready for bed, complete
with a nightgown.
I awoke at 3:15 AM,
found my wife, now
fully clothed,
complete with
windbreaker and shoes,
lying next to me.
She remembered nothing.
Dementia is insidious to all.

Sluice rides
down the hill of life,
full of challenges,
to a lonely way
of living again,
when a life is over.
Where lies the
change, where is
the joy.?
You're no longer a girl,
I am no longer a boy.

One cannot fathom,
the depth of love,
from reading
a line or two.
Words, describe
it not.
Emotions,
ever in play,
as we grow old.
Memories past,
long they are,
long they will be,
until such time
as memories flee.

A trickle of water,
down the hill,
across the meadow,
dale and glen,
to a pond,
water still,
to the edge,
where it spilled
into a stream.

Forget the loneliness of hills,
where lay fields of grass.
Does it matter, who it's for
or what is behind the door?
An emptiness, no spoken word,
of being alone,
hidden in shadows.
Away from the curious eyes,
who search for flaws
in thought and mind.
Go from here you lonely soul,
find another, sad as you.
leave this place,
is what you should do.

The night was still,
darkest of heart,
forlorn my soul,
until we part.

Words flee
from out
my head,
to hand
with pen,
now poised
to scribe
once more,
the voice
of reason,
becoming one.
Failing verse
of words
written before,
making a choice.
Rest you not
and don't rejoice,
for we must
move on.

Far away,
across the sea,
my home awaits
there for me.

Long the journey,
far from home.
Hurry back,
no more to roam.

Storms arise,
no warnings heard,
via airwaves,
voice or word.

Stay thee here,
you pretty lass,
for you are
my homeward pass.

I'm afoot.
no horse
for me.
No need
for one,
as I see.

I walk
the path,
I know
so well.

Walk I will
down the
dusty path
and will
not incur,
the wrath
of an
owner, once
I knew,
prior to
what was
done to you.

Love went missing,
some time ago.
Love of our neighbors,
we no longer show.
Hatred has invaded our lives,
this we already know.

Inane questions,
in distance, near.
No substance
to what I hear,
except to say,
will I be here,
after calendar days
have gone a year?