Magazine Posts

Into the wild
goes a creature.
You are an exotic,
beautiful, rising star.
Be safe, my friend,
still be who you are,
a loyal human,
destined to go far.

The beauty
of words,
they spread
across page,
enlightning life,
knowing how
to read.
The sound
or noise,
when spoken
out loud.
Difference makers,
rich life,
unique words.
Turn words
to music,
we develop
a useful
life, ours
and paint
word pictures,
for hour,
after hour.

I can't say I loved it
when, this morning
you said to me,
"Who are you,
where do you live?"
This was the first morning
you didn't know what to do.
Did not know anything about
dressing your self.

My first Christmas way from home,
was in San Diego. I was in the US Navy,
having just turned 20 years old.
I do not recall the specifics, but
I probably "messed" (ate) on board ship,
with my new friends and then to San Diego.
Taking a water taxi ride to the foot of Broadway.
Seeing a movie. I'm sure I called my
family back at the old residence.

Far across a path,
this wide,
there was room for me,
by your side.
The troubles we've had,
these past years,
makes our bond stronger,
when we're near,
to each other, within sight,
allowing us to support,
ourselves, in the darkest night.
Stay strong my darling,
you'll always be,
alongside of me, on the
long path to eternity.

Rip out my heart,
from this aging chest.
Removing all the love,
left in this frail shell,
of living a life
in Dementia's miserable Hell.

The water was high.
Cold to the feet.
My hip boots
had sprung a leak.
Early morning hours,
at Ocean Shores,
the Smelt were running,
so get you to work.
Gather the silvery, Smelt,
be on your way,
going home to clean
your large catch and
get your feet warm.

A slight puff of air,
a glow in the gloom,
as a gas lantern,
brightened the room.
Shadows growing longer,
flickered with dance,
in the old days,
a prelude to romance.
Soft music playing
a relaxing tune,
sounding the music,
"Shine on, harvest Moon>"

How strong the urge,
to just cut and run.
I can't do that now,
for you are my Sun.

A World of darkness,
is inside my mind.
Look inside and
you probably will find,
a deep thought,
one of a kind,
which is tied into knots,
using plant twine to bind.

My patience is raw,
my feelings are thin.
It's not about you,
but her thoughts, within.

I do not like myself
at this moment.
Moving my loved one
to a memory care unit
is not sitting well with me.
Perhaps I am biased,
about her abilities,
being stronger than others I've seen.
Am I doing the right thing,
or is this a convenience for me?