Magazine Posts

The days of youth
have passed us by.
Tell me please,
why oh why?
The fun filled days
of trips to Europe,
a place to stay,
lockdown is now,
what is to say?
It's just another
groundhog day.

Hickory dickory dock,
Hickory dickory do.
I pray that in November
I no longer hear of you.

I don't understand
and I can't see,
why there is a sudden
interest in me.

Have I done something
to make your life worse
or is it because you don't
like the words in my verse?

I wish I knew.
I hope that now,
the next time I see you
you will allow
a virtual hug.

Can you go home again,
when you're sixty-five
and none of you parents,
are still alive?

I jump out of bed.
Literally, for me,
for my back aches
and have neuropathy.

I knew everything would be alright,
for it was love, at first sight.
The curve of her body, long and thin
and I must mention the color of her skin.
The color was dark; black not blue,
I am certain that would move quite a few.
Her voice had a rumble. Nice to hear,
with a sound so pleasant to my ear.
Why does my blood rush this far
when I'm looking at a new car?

I hurt, I ache, I feel, not good
but at this age that's understood.
The aches and pains will go away.
Bear on for with you they'll stay.
Things may get better. Wait and see
if you take enough Tylenol three.

Standing alone,
on frozen turf.
Looking for love
on this wonderful Earth.
Searching now,
both far and wide,
needing some how,
to have a ride."
"Where go you now?"
he said with a grin.
"you better run and hide
for all the trouble you're in."

Nobody cares,
Not anymore,
If the words
You do write,
Are by your feet,
Down on the floor.

She wore jeans,
tight to the skin.
It was then I knew
the fix I was in.

My bib overalls,
were not her style,
but when you're young,
everything is a trial.
I said to her,
"would you like to dance?"
No answer was given;
not anything more,
but she walked out
to the dance floor.
I was clumsy, not quite an oaf,
but I did my two step
to her quick step, a loaf
of bread could have
moved faster than I.
I stepped on her foot.
She let out a cry.
I said, "I'm sorry;
I didn't lie.
We danced for a while,
she said " I must leave."
Before I knew it,
she left the dance floor,
and there I was alone,
still looking for more.

I worry for them.
I worry for those.
I am worrying now,
As I suppose,
If the marching
Continues and grows
All of this Summer,
Until the gilds off the Rose,
Then it will be cooler
and they'll need warmer clothes.

My hair grows long.
Longer by the day.
It's over my ears
and to my dismay,
it is almost down to my nose.
But I am thankful to know
it isn't touching my toes.