Magazine Posts

How many a day,
how many a Moon,
will you still be here,
with us in the room?

a cold day, dreary
biting wind, rain again
fingers numb

These words I write
on this Winter's morn,
will soon vanish
as words often do.
I pray that your life
will be good for you.

Down by the water,
close to the shore,
the ancient smell,
I've been here before.
The scent of the Sea
brings back to me,
all of the memories
of where I should be.
Back to the sounds
of yesterdays joy,
back to the memories,
when I was a boy.

A flash of light,
A brief hello.
A lonely night,
A time to go.

For want of love.
For want of why?
For this short life.
For the long goodbye.

Will this be the last Valentines Day
for you?
Where you and I will partake of
a few?
Have a nice dinner and then
to reminisce,
sipping our wine then sealing with
a kiss.
I pray that this is not our last,
dinner together.

Gone forever,
Gone beyond,
Gone across mountains,
Hill and pond.
Nevermore to see,
The light of day.
In God we pray,
Far across the vast sea,
Beyond this World,
Nevermore to see,
What love has brought
For you and me.

Sometimes we are lucky.
Sometimes we're just good.
Sometimes our good fortune is
Sometimes misunderstood.

I sit on a stool.
I sit on a chair.
My head is spinning
with words everywhere.
Words that will pour,
from this aged brain
are still sitting here
and will remain,
as long as I write,
as fast as I can
to capture the words,
where they began.

Why am I here?
What can I do,
to ease this transition,
we're going through?

You slip away slowly,
not hearing what I say
as your memory fails
both week and day.