Magazine Posts

Oh the love I have for you,
Is more than I can ever say,
As I watch you slowly slip away.
While your body, has much ache and pain,
The person you are, does still remain.
One I've loved over all the years
And the beautiful face of yours, appears
The same as the one that started
My love for you. Now I am broken hearted.

The words that come to me
Do so, it seems, quite frequently.
Write I must, for all to see,
The struggle with my sanity.

The aging process, we know, can't be delayed,
unless of course, we go away.
Not an option, not for me,
for I love my life's opportunity.
Push forward now, my life long friend,
and do the work, let's not pretend

In the dark, early morning hours,
As I arise from my bed,
Life is such a wonderous moment,
As words, enter into my head.
I write them, so quickly now,
For if I don't, the words
Escape me, leaving without a sound,
As they fall, useless, to the ground.

Two ships, passing through the night
Is an often used, sweet, refrain.
The wayward glance, is a slight,
Comment on loneliness, that comes not again.
For all are strangers, in our sight,
The time wont last and will remain,
Lodged, in our mind, on that night
And will never be the same.

I never said, that I was perfect
And never intended that for me,
So please don't judge me, so poorly,
When I'm not who you thought I'd be.

Here, I do sit
A powerless twit,
That is afraid to say
About this day
And about tomorrow's dawn,
Or life beyond.
The fear I have,
Comes every day
And just won't go away.
I hate the weakness
Inside of me
And pray that God
Will also see,
A man who is trying,
Even though he's crying
Inside, so no one can see,
His intense fight with agony.

Beneath, the bluest of skies,
I pause to listen
And wonder why,
The World, was made to be,
Only as reflective,
As I might be.
In these days of
Passing time,
I would be inclined,
To drink from cups,
In slurping gulps,
A lot of wine.
I ask the question
Or may imply,
That life goes on,
Though you may die
And no one will wonder,
When time does pass,
That you end up flat,
Behind that, which must be,
From here until senility.