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She will remember not of our yesterday,
as all thoughts are gone. Gone away.
Escaped from that lovely mind of hers.
Escaped in the words of this new verse.

Is there pain, when a heart breaks?
When infatuation of a first encounter,
has worn thin and mixed emotions
have become calloused, much too soon.
Those feelings of a long lost love,
resurface for reasons, I know not why.
Perhaps to rekindle, a long ago flame.
No matter the reason or the cause,
the feelings of loss arise once more,
leaving you to wonder and ask why?

Of what I write
and what you read,
may differ now
for I will cede,
thoughts you have,
are yours. Proceed
to a place in time,
where you may plead
and it may rhyme.

Write the words that pour forth.
Think not of the meanings
or the time. There is no
reason, I'd understand
if I could not write
words in the sand.
The sands of time and
life our hate has caused
most looks of awe,
makes some sense,
comes to me but I cannot
for my hands are free
to do the tasks God
sent to me. Write down your feelings.
Do it now. Do not worry
about how they may sound,
if you are alone. Just stay
away from that darn phone.
The phone has become your brain,
not your love but a disdain
of not having a Social contact
today. So I'll leave and run from here
and try hard to just go and disappear.

To hear the sound of your voice,
brings pleasure to me.
It always has, when I hear thee.
The lilt of your laughter
when we talk and I see,
your eyes are aglow,
with love's own humility.
Unlike before, you aren't near
and I haven't had a hug
for now; a half of a year.
Keeping a Social distance,
is so hard to do,
when your remaining years
are down to a few.

Where is the joy in this life,
if I no longer have my wife?
She is still here with me now.
Her memory is gone; She knows not how,
to prepare herself for days end
and I help as she is my friend.

The Moon is shining bright,
peeking through clouds above.
Has the Moon now become
a shining beacon of love?
Or has it become, in this World
a pillar full of hate.
Why do you write these words?
Can you not, now relate
to the words that have described
some terrible time of fate?

The Witch rode in, on a
broom so thin,
showing the blue-green color
of her wrinkled up skin.
A pointed hat sat on her head,
was black as night.
Opening her mouth, she said
"Come here my lovely child,
come now to me
and I'll make you famous
in this Worlds Fable History.

She rises from the bed, in morning light,
eyes half closed with sleep from the night.
She asks of me, "What do I do now?"
Put on your slippers and glasses too
then I will be down to fix breakfast for you.

At times I am lame.
No; not in that way.
Just a naive person
as I was, one lonely day.
She called to me
from a table, quite near,
wanting to know
if I'd like a beer.
She said, "Call me Ann,
I am your server today."
I nodded my head,
she left, walking away
and brought me a beer
in a long Pilsner glass.
It was then I knew
I now must confess,
I had been here before,
for they all knew my name
as I came through the door.
Why can't I remember?
Or not know at all,
when I entered the chamber
just off the hall.

The window opens.
Time will pass,
through the space
but not the glass.

Like English Ivy, a spreading vine
around my life's path did entwine.
Growing in all directions, as I see
my path to the future is no guarantee.