Magazine Posts

A younger, carefree man, was I
When roaming the World, I did try.
My Uncle had made room for me,
By providing a room with the US Navy.

In the early morning hours,
Before the start of day.
The Sun hasn't risen yet,
But is on it's way.
There's dew on the ground,
I hear cars go by,
As the breeze from their passing,
Swirling around, ankles and feet,
While I'm moving very slowly,
Hearing this old heart beat.

These cool mornings so crisp and fair
Await the Sun to warm the air.
Flowers that are still in the ground,
Stand there silently, with leaves shrunken down
And will bask in the Sun's rays
On these remarkable clear, sunny afternoon days.

I think of you and of me,
And realize, we are lost at sea.
Lost in this sea of lingering doubt,
Knowing not what our life is about.
Doubting the system, facing us in life,
That's full of heartache, trouble and strife.

Days go by quickly, as we age.
Another day is gone, turn the page.

The words have now left my head,
And now I'm going back to bed.
I sincerely hope, that what I said,
Will bring laughter with smiles instead.
The coming days and nights of fear,
As the voting day is drawing near.

Vote your conscience,
Red or Blue.
It's up to you.

Down that path, I no longer trod,
I have found my faith in God,
It is no longer, just about me,
I must take care of thee.

I feel the wind and hear the rain
The noise brings such a sweet refrain.
I am in the garden, on my knees,
Planting starts of Columbine, as I please
To provide joy to neighbors passing by
Saying the garden does please the eye.

Albert Camus ~ (November 7, 1913 – January 4, 1960) French philosopher, author, and journalist.

It is always the darkest before the dawn
And the sleepless hours, go on and on.

When I die and live no more,
Will that be the final metaphor?
Knowing not, a difference it will make
For words spoken at my wake.