Magazine Posts

It is almost five am.
What is wrong with me?
I have been up,
since half past three.
Words pop into my brain,
falling like Summer rain.
If I don't write them down,
they will no longer be found,
for they disappear like raindrops do
and then I can't share them with you.

If I couldn't hear.
If I couldn't see,
Would I understand
What is wrong with thee?

A crooked smile,
an offset grin.
Who knows what
she saw in him.
His eyes so blue,
a light from within,
covers the scars,
of a skin so thin.
His hair was long,
thick not thin;
a voice so rough,
where do I begin
to explain the joy
of a new found friend.

Ahh, Summer in Redmond town,
now that the Sun has settled.
We are on the deck. It's nine pm
and quite pleasant.
Almost ninety today, the temp.
not my age, but is now seventy-five.
Sitting with my lovely wife, Ms. Ellie,
listening to her favorite, Neil Diamond,
"Coming to America" album .
It is said that "music soothes the Beast
within". Perhaps so. In any event it is
gratifying to see the enjoyment on her
face as she listens to her favorite.
Oh the sweet pleasures of this life we
live. We must take and enjoy, as time allows.
You cannot capture our yesterdays,
unless in a song.

I am tired of being alone.
My wife has Dementia,
and is now like a child
knowing not, how
to dress herself,
select her clothes
in the morning.
I lay out undergarments
for her in the a.m.
and some clothing options.
I don't know how to
deal with this new demand
that she needs.
I will learn for that is my task.
The most difficult thing
is to have her wear a mask.

My hands; they still ache
and my feet are sore,
yet I continue to write
the words; I'll write more.

I have this image
staying in my head
of finding you wearing
your jeans in our bed.

She sang to me
with voice refine.
A song of love
for Auld Lang Zine.

I was weeding the garden
when I heard the sound,
a lovely young voice,
it did astound.

A teenage girl
with hair a swirl
sang to me
with voice so free.
I laughed to my self
for I was amused,
by the sound of her voice
and the song she did choose.

An interesting day.
A night sublime,
as we return to
day's of Auld Lang Zine.
Remembering the events
of a far away day,
when friends were here
not locked away.

I love you now.
I'll love you when,
our World returns
to sanity once again.

Many years ago, the neighbor, behind our house told
me he was going to put in a little pond, in the corner
of his lot, close to us.
He spent a lot of time digging out the dirt for the pond.
The neighbor, I'll call him Curt, worked hard. Scraping
the sides of the hole to attain the smooth sides and top
that he wanted for the top stones and to pave the pond
so it would retain water.
Curt mentioned that he had purchased a miniature
Cherry tree and it's drooping branches would provide
a beautiful setting.
Curt moved away, several years later. The new neighbor,
who I won't name, built a fence so I no longer had a view
of the pond.
As the years passed the miniature Cherry tree wasn't and
towers over the fence with branches intruding into our
vertical space and effecting the growth of a Fir tree.
There are no cherries, that are edible, but there are
a lot of white blossoms, so when they fall from the tree
it looks like a small Spring snowstorm.
God bless you. Rest in Peace, Curt, as I heard you had
passed away several years ago.
I do think about you every day and want you to know the
miniature Cherry tree, towers about 50 plus feet
above the corner of our deck.

Many of our friends
we no longer see,
for the lockdown has
caused mental atrophy.