Magazine Posts

I hope in the next life
you treat her with care,
for at this moment,
I'm filled with despair,
from the loving God
I hear about,
that hears not my prayers.
So I'm left to go and shout,
"Why are you doing this to she?"
Tell me please tell this aged lout
for I don't understand
why she must suffer so
while hurting her and family.

It's not her fault
It's the disease
I say to myself
every day.
It's not her fault
for what she will say
or if anger presents
itself today.
No filters is what I see.
Please God, please
help me. Help her be
the person she was
just once more.

The river, clear yesterday
is muddy with roiling waves
from a torrential downpour
in the foothills of the rivers source.

The squirrel scurries
along the fence going
to his nest.

Geese in flight
making too much noise
migration

Fall is here
it came with windy rain
Summer's gone

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Footsteps across frosted lawn,
Rabbits on their journey
to partake of my bunch grass,
now sheared to the ground.

A time, a place.
Nowhere to go.
A single voice,
But no one says No.
What do we do,
To stop this scene?
Vote, vote , vote,
Would be so keen.

The gentle curve of your shoulder;
That shape I've seen before,
Is what I remember, of our life
When we were younger.
So many days and months before
Our love was one that
Comes, once in a lifetime,
But wait, there is more
Our life will go on
Then end with a roar.

Must I awake, in dead of night,
from deepest sleep, into the light,
as my loved one, says she's cold
and is looking for some clothes.
It's 5 AM as I say to her
"what are you doing"?
She says, back to me,
"I'm cold". I look and she has
an undershirt on top of her
sleeping gown.
An early morning excursion
that she won't recall the
next morning.
Evenings and early mornings
seem to be the time that
strange behavior occurs.
A common trait is what
I've been told.

The smartest one,
I ever knew,
Is still here on this day.
Unfortunately, I now
Confess, has gone away.
She still there
In front of me,
With little left of her memory.