I am a simple man
with a complexed mind.
I write these words
to enable me
to cope with life's
reality and to deal
with this emotion,
deep inside, that
is worried by the
slow decline of
someone close to me,
who no longer
can use reason
or logic, to think.
I love this elderly
child, I see
is now a dependent
on our family and me.
Retired for many years and now re-discovering some writings, from long ago, along with new endeavor to help save my soul.
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I am a simple man
For once in a lifetime
Of memory filled days.
There comes a moment,
Emerging from the haze,
Of all the stored visions
And in many ways,
Will always be there
Until the end of life's phase.
Here I am, a Native Son,
Resisting the invasion that has begun.
I am small and shades of brown.
Now there are some Greys in town.
I run along the fence, so quickly,
Much faster than in a tree.
My name is Walter Earle,
I am a Native Washington Squirrel,
Not a Chipmunk, I must say
But a Native Squirrel, every day.
The invasion came, years ago.
Not sure how, but they did show.
Grey Squirrels, coming from the East,
Eating our food; it was a feast.
I fight very hard for specie survival
Against the Grey, my arch rival.
Who will win, that's hard to say,
But I know that I'm here to stay.
Where are you now, my mysterious child.
We met years ago, when we were wild.
In an age when long hair was offensive,
While the romance at times was pensive.
Do you remember the longest hair,
Bell bottom pants, tie dyed shirts to wear?
Those times of so called "Free Love"
With alcohol infused thoughts not from above,
Determined our views between right or wrong,
Many of our words became a protest song.
My mind is going
I've lost command.
My feet not moving.
Stuck in the sand.
Sand all around,
Creeping in on me.
I must run
But cannot flee.
A riddle you say?
That might be the case.
All that I know is,
I must leave this place.
Here I sit, not looking pretty
Trying to write words for this ditty.
Must I awake, during these early
Morning hours, 3:30 AM, thoughts are swirly.
I need to return to my bed
Letting the pillow cover my head.
So off I go, as quickly, you see
Into the bed that is calling me.
I don't wish to write about Politics.
I do want to comment on the dirty tricks.
I know for me, it's been awhile,
But Politics are so juvenile.
When lies are truths, according to them,
My mind coughs to get rid of mental phlegm.
Tell me please, what you will do.
Don't disparage all your opposition,
I only care about your personal opinion.
My mind is swirling, racing about,
Trying to be quiet, with nary a chance.
I have pen in hand, writing the thoughts
That are in my head. I try to write
Them down to paper, fast as can be,
For it is now a quarter past three.
That's in the A. M.
Even early for me.