Magazine Posts

If you wish to write,
give it a try.
Tell your mother.
A gift to be. No lie.

Thank you for your kind words.
I'd like to say,
your spoken words,
made my day.

What words
are these
on my plate?
Must I cease
and write,
no more?

I'll stop,
these words inane,
for when I write,
I feel disdain.

Are these feelings,
I have now,
real or should
I resign and disavow?

It was a beautiful life,
when I was living
with my lovely wife.
Things began to
unravel when she
was diagnosed with
Lung Cancer, Stage 3.
Treatment successful,
in remission eight years
but the ravages of Chemo,
took its toll. Diagnosed
with Early Onset Dementia,
January 2017. Early warning
signs, of memory loss,
unable to balance the check book,
appeared in 2015.
New diagnosis of Advanced
Vascular Dementia-Alzheimer
Disease. Moved to a Memory
Care facility, January 2022.
I live in the same facility
but one floor separating us.
I see her, almost every day,
trying to have dinner with
her. It is a moment I need,
probably more than she.
There is no recollection of
being at the same Dining Room,
same table, for over a month.
It has become difficult for her
to make small decisions when
eating food. She will say,
"What do I do?" I help her
and explain what she is eating.
She won't remember that in the
next few minutes. I see her
frustration and it pains me,
knowing I have lost this person
who I love.

Be still the night,
free up the pain.
Brighten my soul,
once more. Again.

The ravages of Hell
have seized my life.
The pain within me,
Dementia in my wife.

What will I do
when I can't see,
you beside
heartbroken me?

I love you so,
my sweet wife.
I will always love,
until the end of life.

Alone, now am I,
seeing you in evening time.
It's always my wish
to be with you to dine.

Dry the flame of jealousy's
internal heat supply,
for the interest of another,
causing tempers to fly.

No more of love,
where has it gone?
Will the words written,
be heard in a song?

All our memories,
thoughts of the past,
are good for me.
Yours didn't last.

Why must those dreams
vanish in the Sun,
when both our thoughts
merge into one?

Sitting, I gaze out the window,
sunshine's bright glare,
reflecting off windowpane,
making my life more aware.

Along the shore,
a fine seaside,
I long to be.
A one-way ride.

My feet in wet sand,
my heart with you.
If you aren't here,
what must I do?