Magazine Posts

From my memories, far in the past,
A thought emerges and it comes fast,
On this morning, so dark with rain.
Memories that evolved, both pleasure and pain,
Of lost adventures, with people I've known.
Some no longer here; some have flown,
To another career and wonderful time,
That makes me happy, with bliss, sublime,
For my friends, now down to a few,
I bid you farewell and say adieu.

I can't wait for tomorrow,
There just isn't enough time,
As life has so much sorrow
But I do not wish to whine.

The way of words, are to move,
Ones feelings of high emotion,
Is rife with, thoughts from above,
Filled with, loves pure devotion.

Thoughts of you, make my eyes glisten,
Although you say, that I never listen.
I do hear you, almost every day
And pray that you don't go away.

There are days, I have this urge,
From my mind, these words to purge.
Words that like, to rattle around.
Words that rattle, without a sound.

I believe that I will always remember,
The unique sight and sounds of September.
The colors of Fall, the changing trees,
As the vibrant yellow and reds, of leaves,
Sun rises, on crisp, frosty morning,
Suddenness of a Fall storm, without warning,
The brightness of days, crisp and clear,
Are memories, that I will hold dear.

Why do you, say to me?
Why do you, treat me so?
Is it, because I see,
That you, don't want to go
Or lose, what's left behind,
As memories, escape from your mind?

Here I do sit,
A powerless twit,
That is afraid to say,
About this grey day
And about, tomorrow's dawn
Or the 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 when he is crying
Inside, so no one can see,
My internal fight, with agony.

The days are closing in, towards Fall.
The mornings become crisp, that's not all.
The leaves start changing, to their Fall
Color and the winds, tell us all
That snow and ice are drawing near
And we must put on, warmer gear.

There once was a day
That I could certainly tell,
All the things, you did,
Were not done very well.
It's not criticism, you see,
Just a lapse in your memory.
As our days, pass by,
I will keep wondering why,
Things you did from before,
You do not do anymore.
For some of the tasks,
You can no longer do,
Then you ask me to.
I will then, just comply
And do always, wonder why,
This ugly disease, has now,
Forced a change of how,
We live our life, every day
and it will never go away.
May God keep you safe,
In the palm of his hand.

The loneliest sound, I have ever heard,
Was from, the beak of a bird.
I was gazing up, at the moon
And I heard the call of a Loon.

At some moment or wrinkle in time,
Something will happen, that is totally sublime.
I cannot say, what that might be.
It will be most likely be free.