Magazine Posts

What can I say,
What can I do,
To return you
Back to you?

How do you write about
what you don't know?
Through observation of daily
contact and comments?
I have noted the comments,
"I don't know what I am doing."
Discussions are often started by
"Do you remember?" and then
a struggle, by me to call forth
an answer to that question.
A question from me, in return,
as I try to "pin down" who or what.
A wrong guess is accompanied by
a "No, No, No" and a waving of hands.
Sometimes, I am lucky, in my guess,
but mostly I am not. I do try
to use a process of elimination but
the asking of questions, by me, brings
a response of "I don't know:; I can't
remember." Frustrating for us both.
Every day brings a new adventure
in this our life's journey.

Here is a scene from long ago.
Owning a car, so you could go
To visit the relatives in clothes worn.
One's you knew, since they were born.
A great time, as a faded memory
Of what was and what will be.

The sunlight
spirals downward; caught
by the dust in the trees,
then burrows into the
piles of scattered leaves.
Life goes on, as Sun rays
spill toward the sheltered ground.
There is a golden silence
for the wind blows, not now.
It will resume in morning
hours, before the Rooster crows;.
Life is beautiful when you
hear the Songbird sing
about a song and ring
of light, from the Sun above
filled with warmth
and with love.

Walking through a stand of trees
Snow is deep, up to my knees.
Keep on moving, if you please,
Moving so my toes don't freeze.
This happened prior to Gore-Tex days
When snowy water wet your boots,
Soaked your socks; froze your toes.
Why we did this? No one knows.

Up very early, wife's still asleep.
Trying to be quiet, as I keep
An early morning time to run
Through the dark, shadowed streets,
Before the rising of the Sun.
It is very quiet, not much noise
Except for some figures
That appear to be paper boys.
I move up the street; a little hill
As my breathing and pulse increases;
I know it always will.
I push harder now, up this slight rise.
My breath appears white and puffy
Before my sleepy eyes.
At the top I take a left,
Down 148th's long, slight decline.
My breathing back to normal,
Now this run is mine.
I finish this early morning run,
Almost 6 taxing miles.
Returning home, my running clothes I shed,
I go into the shower; my wife is still in bed.
Finish the ritual of bath
And put on a suit and tie.
Out the door, I go to work
Feeling happy and very spry.
I will repeat this daily ritual
Until I feel like a well oiled machine,
Then I will be more ready,
If you know what I mean.

The morning fog, laid on the ground
muffling noise, from all around.
With my coat and sweater zipped up tight,
I start my walk, at Dawn's first light.
Walking early, is the best for me
as I can free my mind, readily.
I review my life, as it is now,
thinking about promises in our wedding vow.
Especially intriguing "In sickness and in health."
My love can't be measured in terms of wealth.
I will do what I must do
and keep taking care of you.

Sometimes, I think of you the most,
About the Trinity and the Holy Ghost.
Why is that you ask, I see?
I'm unsure, but it might be,
A hidden need, that's inside of me.

The part that prayer plays in life,
When used, reduces pain and strife,
That we see everyday, come what may.
To soothe the worries; Who's to say
If the results will end with scorn
As our life goes on, so forlorn.

I don't wish to give you pause
Or recruit you now, to my cause.
I do ask of you, on this day,
That when I speak, don't look away.
For the words that I say too
Are words of love, just for you.

There is a moaning, in the trees,
Accented by the Summer breeze.
Filled with heat from Sun above,
Is this the sound trees make in love?
The rubbing sound of a thousand leaves
Are sounds of love, among the trees.

Off we go to what we know well,
As Dementia takes you slowly to Hell.
It's a one way trip, with no return,
Your life is gone, like flash and burn.
No recovery for this disease today,
So you face up, as your life fades away.

A crashing wave
on glistening rock,
is a noise to love,
not hate the sound,
as Nature's music,
comes in many ways,
for us to enjoy
all the waves.