Magazine Posts

With minds so shallow,
And thoughts so deep,
It is no wonder
That I can't sleep.

I try to write, what's going on,
In this feeble mind of mine.
Some thoughts just pop, then are gone.
Others just appear, without reason or rhyme.
Don't ask me where they come from,
I can't answer, as I don't know.
I just have them in my mind,
And will put to paper, for show.

When the fire, burning so brightly,
Has slowly, lost it's flame,
And is now just glowing embers,
When ashes will still remain,
The coolness of evening, will begin
as the crickets sing a sad refrain.

Don't weep for me tomorrow,
If you can't visit me today.
No matter the pain or sorrow,
Come listen to what I say,
For the memory, I leave to you,
Before I have gone away.

When I was a lad of three,
I never thought about what I'd see
When I reached the age of eighty-three.
For if I knew, I'd have lived this long,
I would have sung a different song.

May I touch your hand, to remember,
How our love, has endured?
Can I hug and hold you,
Until I am, re-assured,
That you won't suddenly leave,
When I am not fully cured?

These days of ours, are so uncertain,
I pray there won't be a final curtain.
Why is that, you may ask, today?
It's because I'm not ready, to go away.

The serenity of our life, is still
That time, that is so tranquil.
Must we succumb, to those, gone before,
That left this life, through open door?
I know not what words to say,
Then to praise God, on this day.

I care not, of what you say.
I care not, of what you do.
My only care, on this Fall day,
Is to keep, taking care of you.

There are some people, I don't like.
There are some people, I'll never be.
There are some people, who always lie.
There are some people, that I trust.
There are some people, more like me.

With sunny days and nights of cold,
The change, creating more colors of gold,
Reds, orange and many shades of brown.
Fall winds, shake trees; leaf's fall down.
A beautiful time, in the Great Northwest,
When plants and trees, get to rest.

A stake through the heart,
Is how I feel.
I can't believe, this part
Of life, being so surreal.
This hurt, that I see,
That we can't heal;
Your loss of memory.