Magazine Posts

Here I sit alone,
not what I expected,
when growing up,
when I was young.

Happy Birthday,
my mother, dear.
Missing you, so,
wish you were here.

You have been gone,
now seventeen years.
Please help me,
calm my fears.

My father was a Ford man, most of his life.
We lived in Seattle, Dad was working for Todd's
Shipyard, in West Seattle.

We moved to Riverton Heights. He bought a Trailer
Park and went to work, at a Ford Dealership, in Renton.
I remember, when he brought home a 1949, Ford, 4 door
sedan. Stick shift, on the steering column and a V-8.
it was a treat.

We relocated, East of the Cascade Mountains. I remember,
as I had enrolled at O'Dea and was disappointed, as we were
leaving my friends.

Dad opened an Electrical Contracting business and all of his
trucks were Ford. I specifically remember a pickup truck, 1951.

Dad had passed away, several years later, and my younger brother, drove up in a
Chevrolet. I could visualize our dad, spinning in his casket,
when that news broke.
Funny how your mind works, when happenings pop up although,
you hadn't thought about it in years.

My emotions are
raw as a sore.
When I see her
I must have more.

She wants to
stay with me,
this I can't do,
were no longer we.

Sitting at dinner,
with my bride.
She says to me,
"You are my love."

Needless to say,
I choked, eyes wet,
no tears flowed,
I recall when we met.

As I've gotten older,
a feeling I get,
I've been ridden hard
and put away wet

In between the life of ours,
filled with love and shiny cars.
What else remains to see
except my love for thee?

A question arises,
in my mind.
Am I about to go
off the deep end?

No longer can I continue
the facade of pretend,
of what I no longer am,
to be strong is my want,
to perform until the end.

My brain
missed the train
to sanity.
Odd the thoughts,
which pervades the anatomy.
Where does it end?

A thousand-yard stare,
I see in her eyes.
She knows me not,
then she sighs.

Where have you been?
How did you arrive?
I was afraid,
you were not alive.

The pain I hear,
in her voice, for me,
is one I do not
want to hear or see.

Why has her life,
gotten so hard?
Her life, slivered,
just a shard,

of what we enjoyed,
year after year.
Another valued memory,
has disappeared.

The Sun is out this morning,
no apparent wind
or Spring breeze.
No wafting wind,
shaking the trees.

I have walked this path
of life before,
of hidden byways,
shady nooks, and more.

Do you remember,
those moments past,
when we thought
our memories would always last?