Contributor Posts

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.

The world is a much,brighter place,
With your wit and charming ways.
Please know, that always applies to you.
Carry that thought, to your last days.

My senses are spinning, out of control,
The balance that I had, left me.
I can't seem to think, clearly at all,
My patience is, at the moment, too thin.
That is not the way, I intend to be.
I need a break, from this insanity.

Do you think it a talent,
To write, the way I do
Or is it, just a lament,
To mask my point of view?

Why has love gone away, from me?
Perhaps it is only, in my mind.
It has become, a very great mystery.
Please do not think, I am unkind,
To think of myself, at this time.

Sadness, invades my soul.
When it does, my view on life
Changes, to one of poor
Expectations, as those I love,
Slowly, ever slowly pass away.