I see the scissors
in front of thee,
yet you ask
for them incessantly.
I try to tell you
where they are,
while you grab them
both near and far.
"Are these them?"
is what you ask.
Now I understand
you know not too
what objects are
in front of you.

My head is a blender,
whirling words all about.
I tread lightly so my anger
doesn't appear and come out.

Perhaps this life will have to do.
I am certain I won't find another you.
A friend in this long, long life,
The special person, my beloved wife.
We have been through thick and thin,
Now fighting a battle we can't win.

There is so much futility;
You don't have the ability
Nor the tool for tranquility
And all become a liability,
Charging to an old utility,
Bringing you back to reality,
Resulting in the end. Finality

What is there to say?
What is there to do,
For each and every day
I lose more of you.

I fear not of death on this day,
for it would mean I've gone away.
I would no longer miss my friends
nor hear the words and Amen.

It is almost five am.
What is wrong with me?
I have been up,
since half past three.
Words pop into my brain,
falling like Summer rain.
If I don't write them down,
they will no longer be found,
for they disappear like raindrops do
and then I can't share them with you.

Who is to blame?
Only time will tell
if you now have
a space reserved in Hell.

It appears you have succeeded
to isolate this Country from the World,
when the citizens are not welcome
to travel to other countries.
Nice plan.

If I couldn't hear.
If I couldn't see,
Would I understand
What is wrong with thee?