Magazine Posts

Never in my life
would I have said,
my life is over,
my feelings are dead.
What kind of God,
does this to thee?
Leaving your sweet self
with a destroyed memory.

I enjoy most sounds which sing.
The tinkling of rain against window pane;
freshets of wind coming in small bursts,
a most pleasant of sounds, unless
your window is open. Blinds rattle,
above my sleepy old head, as I try
to fall asleep in the warm, cozy bed.

Dawn creeps in,
dark turns to grey.
Sunlight joins in,
what else can I say?
You are the Dawn,
I'll always be
here to love you,
until the darkness,
outside our door,
goes far away,
and it's sunny once more.

I'm writing words,
I no longer love
and no longer trust.
I must start over,
before they're dust.

The words I see.
The words I write,
spill from my head,
in the pre-dawn light.

Are these words of joy,
or another mood?
Will they be clear
or just misunderstood?

I'll try hard once more,
to write the words,
as I did, long before,
not to be as absurd.

The life of another
is in your care.
Do you understand?
Are you aware?
Yet, here you are,
trying hard to converse,
when you know your words,
won't be heard or understood.
You cannot argue or convince,
when logic is not present
and a life time of
love, trust and affection,
is broken by you.
You've lost the connection.

How fickle I am,
with these words I write.
I write of love
and of its might,
to move emotional mountains,
at the darkest of night,
yet, I flit with feelings
to family and friends,
as I'm having a struggle
when trying to pretend.

Did you ever
walk a train track,
where you took
small, choppy steps
on the creosote ties?

I see your legs,
oh, what can I say,
to avoid writing,
something risque'.

Long will I wander,
Long will I run,
until I arrive at
my first home.
Home in the Valley,
far from the sea,
where I still hear
voices calling for me.
Hide in the shadows,
if you choose not to run.
Lie in the vast meadow,
warmed by the Sun.
Stay there forever
until your journey is done.

A sharp pain, down my spine,
as I remember when
I asked you to be mine.
Our life was great,
our life was so fine,
when Dementia attacked;
robbing you of your mind.

Sometimes I think
you are the lucky one,
for you cannot see,
all the damage done
to a lifetime of joy.
Life's memories now gone.