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I awaken to the sounds, at night
Of crying, silently to ease the plight
And realize that the noise I hear
Is coming from someone so near.
I move my hand and then I feel
The tears on my cheeks, are real.
Stop it! I say, in my Father's word
You're a Big Boy and don't be heard.
But at night when there is little sound
There's no one there, no one around.
The pain; knowing the loss will take
Helps me not, for when I awake,
I know that this time of ours
Will soon only be up in the Stars.

There's a terrible hurt, that dwells inside,
This ancient shell of a man.
It is a painful process, to decide
That the anguish of a forgotten love,
Can not, will not and must not deride
That memory of praying to God up above.
Only time will lessen the pain, if you decide.

The light in the window
reflects from the glass,
letting travelers know your home
while they're walking past.
The Moon reflects off a darkened
room's glass pane,
casting shadows on the grass
as the Sunlight does wane.
It is a captivating view,
for you and me,
holding hands, as we walk
down the street, so happily.

Crashing waves
Seagulls shrill cries
Tranquil

I rememberl a friend of mine say,
"We need to run a marathon, one day".
My reply to him, as I recall
Was not me, not me at all.
We were already doing a short training run,
An experience, I would never call fun.
This was in December of nineteen eighty nine
And our training rules, we'd need to refine.
Running at least eight miles each day
With a long one of fifteen, I would say.
Rest on Sunday, because our set routine.
Our goal was to make our long runs
Every other week to protect our and ankles and feet.
The length of the long run, soon became twenty
And I can say that we did run many.
At last the race day was almost here.
Into the car, we made our long foray
To Vancouver, BC for the run of our year.
The next morning the air held a freeze,
So designer sweats of a Hefty garbage bag,
Over our head, it covered us to our knees
And we could shed it with great ease.
Off all the runners went, at their own pace,
With the coolest of air, blowing in our face.
From the Convention Center to Stanley Park,
The struggles were there, no longer a lark.
We ran with the comfort of our training
Time, now being felt, up to the
Lion Gate Bridge to North Vancouver way
A left and a right, turning to the East.
Then looming ahead, not a favorable sight
Was the East Bridge, with lots of height.
Down the bridge, legs feeling good.
My breathing was not labored, I misunderstood,
When an elderly man, watching, yelled at me,
"Breathe" which I thought I was doing.
My body was laboring, my breathing was hard.
We turned the corner, with the Finish in sight
And we sprinted towards that beautiful sight.
The elation felt when crossing the line,
I will always remember, till the end of my time.

#camanoisland

#classicpnw 

The World we know is a difficult place,
Awash with friends and strangers
All with a different face.
Be not afraid of that fear within,
Just stand tall as your life will begin.

My Wine Collection is showing at Davenport Cellars in the Warehouse District, Woodinvillle thru May. Stop by for food, wine and art! 

Address: 19495 144th Ave NE, Suite A-16 Woodinville, WA 98072

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