Magazine Posts

Where are you now,
my elusive friend.
Was it something I said,
from which you ran?
Tell me, please tell me
for this life will soon end.
An end of friendship, my dear friend.

Do not ponder,
Do not dwell.
My soul tells my body,
were on a slow ride to Hell.
I no longer have control
of my body or my mind.
It matters not
if the words are unkind.
Go from this place.
Go now and flee.
Keep hiding your face
from those who can't see,
the pain inside you,
from deep within,
who haven't a clue
of the pain you are in.

In another time,
so long ago,
we went to the movies.
Never went to the show.
The problem with movies;
there is no chance for romance.
So you drove to the Grange,
where people would dance.
There was "Square Dancing"
you moved around in a circle,
with a twirl or dosey do.
Off you would dance, not slow.
Later, the music scene, change it did,
when you could dance face
to face; "oh you kid."
A waltz, a two step, a Varsouviana.
You would have a young lady, by the hand.
Then new music burst onto the scene;
It was Rock and Roll. And then the King
Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison and
became the latest thing.

The words arise,
the words do come,
telling the story
of the Midnight Sun.
I know not what,
these words now mean,
for they make no sense
to this old Sage,
to write or expound;
Please turn the page.

No more the morning,
No more the night,
No more the morrow,
No more tonight,
No more the day,
No more the sight,
No more to say,
No more to sleep tight.

You are now like a child,
not the one I wed.
As we approach the evening,
getting you ready for bed.
You like to show me
the things you can do,
like a small child and I
say, "I am proud of you."

Speak to me
my Angel of love.
Guide me through
life's treacherous path.
I see your name,
and my heart melts;
the blood runs hot,
like nothing else.
Beats the heart rhythm,
deep in my chest
as your look of love
will do all the rest.

The compact sand,
cold and wet
showing small nooks,
where eddies pool.
The water cold,
a lap of wave,
flattens the sand,
as far as
you can see.
The effects of
a Winter storm
of the cold, cold
water of the Pacific Sea.

The Willow tree,
a shelter now.
Is thick with limbs,
branches tangled,
leaves a shamble.
The covering cloak,
blocks wind and rain;
a great place to hide,
when as a child,
we ran and played
amongst the trees.
Bring back the time
when it was quiet,
serene and love
was in flight.

The bed
squeaks,
as I rise.
Noisily,
for its size.
Quietly
I go down
the stairs,
Suddenly,
there she is.

You have left, once again.
I know not where you go,
it's then I realize,
I'm no longer the one
who enjoys our past life,
which Dementia has undone.
I'm alone in this life,
though you are here with me.
My love is still strong
and strong it must be,
for you are the one
who God made for me.
I love you now and what's more,
I will love more than ever before.

Last night you talked to me.
Your words got in the way.
You kept calling me Joe,
and then you said Scott,
then back to saying Joe.
I know I shouldn't have,
but it is what I did;
I asked you for my name
and you said, "It's Joe."
It isn't my name,
and I told you so
but you continued
to call me Joe.