Magazine Posts

The sound of your voice,
when you say words to me,
is a most special feeling.
It is nothing you can see,
for it kindles the life
in my Soul, exponentially.

Winter's mantle,
frozen crystal,
icy twigs,
encrusted grass.
Leaves, lying
beneath skeletal
trees, flaunting
their nakedness.
Starry diamonds
reflecting light
from a frozen pond.

I love to see your bright smile,
when you greet others; who you beguile,
with your charm and a sweet hello
For me it is why I love you so.
A love coming from what I see
a love of life; a love so platonically.

A young boy, shy and forlorn,
quiet since the day he was born.
His only shoes were quite scuffed,
clothing was clean but tattered and torn.
He played with others
when ever he could,
but most of the time was by himself,
behind the house, deep in the Wood.
This shy, retiring , bashful guy
would get anxious and
sometime he would cry,
for someone to help him.
To tell him "this is your day."
Play when you want and
do whatever you say,
but treat all people as a friend
and if you do that for life
it will be real and not "Let's pretend."

I lay next to her, my oldest friend,
with fear by my side, as I pretend.
The life we have loved, is close
to the end, as she morphs into a
child. A young child once again.
A young person, in her mentality,
but old in her physical reality.
My head on the pillow
as tears start to seep,
while the sadness overcomes me,
as I pray for others, and fall asleep.
I write of sadness, to no avail,
wondering about life and my fail.
Failed to keep her safe from harm.
A failure too late, to see the alarm,
as her memories, slowly fade away.
Please don't tell me, "Have a good day."