Magazine Posts

When I was a young man, I purchased a
car. The car was a 1930, 2 door, Model A
Ford. It was in a friends garage, up on
blocks, with the original wooden spoked
wheels and the tires too. I made an offer
to this family friend. He sold me the car
for $100.
The first thing I did was replace the tires
and wheels, as the original tires were
cracked and wouldn't hold air.
The interior was remarkably fine. No holes
to see. The body had a few minor dents from
a small collision with some immovable object.
Very little damage to a car, older than I.
A battery had been installed in the car
but it also had a hand crank, which was still
there. The gas tank was placed in front of the
windshield and had a device in the fill cap which
showed you what the gas level was. There was
a choke and a spark retard on the steering column.
You started the car by turning on the key and pressing
a Start button, after you activated the choke to supply
fuel. The car was enjoyable to me, at an earlier life.
Now I wish I still had my car. A black, 2 door Model A Ford.

Is it any wonder when
you're not right in the head;
when you need to be social,
but now this therapy is dead.
Do you understand?
Of course you do not
for those with Dementia,
what have we now got?
Nothing! Nothing, I say
will every make this
a very good day.

Always a great reason.
Always a great cause,
To read again, about
The Wizard of Oz.
To escape into a scene,
Inside the story book,
Only took a minute,
Having my first look.
Oh the stories there,
A vision of a past
Imagination and where
The stories were vast.

You're getting worse.
Certainly not better.
Dementia I hate,
Even the "D" letter.

I stand near you,
close by your side,
as you wash your face,
at another evening tide.
A sadness now,
creeps over me,
as my thoughts
are about the reverie.
Caring for you now,
for what I see,
is an older child
with a lost memory.
I will help you,
as much as I can,
but this loss of thee,
is breaking this man.

No more the words.
No more the "harrump."
I care not to discuss,
Donald J. Trump

It's been too long a journey,
as it nears the end.
No more this life of madness
of having to pretend,
to believe in the absolute goodness
of the almighty man.
Return me now to the land
where my life began.

When Dawn's light shines through the pane.
When I mutter, "I slept in again."
I rise quickly, fast for me,
Before the daylight will flee,
For I have many tasks to do,
Before my next visit with you.

Don't run away.
Don't leave me too soon.
You must remember,
I promised you,
The Stars and the Moon.
Stay with me now.
Stay with me please,
For I beg forgiveness.
I'm down on my knees.
Praying for you Love.
You're what I need,
If I am to be able
To fulfill this need.

My mind is a wonder.
No it's not what I said.
The word is wander,
Not wonder. I'm here, not dead.
The eldest son of a second son,
my role in this World,
has work, which is still undone.
What do you make of the noise,
during these craziest of days,
when the Trump supporters
continue to support and praise,
for someone who does not
care about them and goes away.

When you left me on that day,
as I recall, it was in May.
Your body was here. Your mind gone.
A long lived couple, now I'm alone.
Alone I will sit, within the room.
No noise here, just like a tomb.
No one to talk to, but I see,
you are lost, in your reverie.

Perhaps you will soon surmise,
seeing the hurt within her eyes.
She can't remember anything.
A lament which will always bring,
a sadness for me to sing.