A slight breeze,
ruffled her hair,
light brown in color,
no curls to share.

A beautiful smile,
she was unaware,
of the magic she held,
not one to compare.

Slender, she was,
a picture to see.
A joy, in my life,
for she loved me.

When I was young,
I loved to tease.
Now I am old,
my chest on my knees.

Don't laugh too long,
about my plight,
look in the mirror,
for your own delight.

I saw her again,
knew by her look,
she read my emotions,
like a page from a book.

Greeted her warmly,
to see her smile.
Success came my way,
hadn't happened in a while.

What a beauty you are,
I thought to myself.
My emotions came back,
from off of the shelf.

As long as I live,
I'll remember this time,
she told me I do,
and our hearts intertwined.

Long the winds blew,
memories of our past.
Looking back at the years,
life's events are now last.

Like the wind
before the storm,
life was grand,
life was norm.

What happens next,
when love is anew?
Memories are gone,
love didn't renew.

When you write
and words spring forth,
it can be the most,
beautiful thing.

Rhyming is not essential.
If it happens, it does,
no worries, as free verse,
is a beautiful thing.

From out the crack
of a sidewalk arose,
a beautiful plant,
a pink, pink rose.

Competing, to live again,
from rain and dirt,
the flower grew,
how much the hurt?

To bring forth,
a lovely plant,
to live again.
Don't say can't.

For each of my days,
in my wretched life,
is my worry about
the health of my wife.

Awake I am,
a flickering flame.
Words flow out,
I hear your name.

My heart beats fast
nowhere to hide
the fears I have,
for this long slow ride.

My eyes flash,
with my fear
of losing you,
this coming year.

In the days,
before your time,
life was good,
a sunny clime.

We ran and swam,
most every day.
It wasn't work,
just fun to play.

Working hard on
a hay bailing crew,
dirty work, but,
earning money, too.

If I say to you,
young lady, thou,
write your thoughts,
starting soon, or now.

Let your words flow
from your head.
Write them down,
no fear, no dread.

You're in control
of what you write.
No matter what,
you are right.

MFish

A life's path,
has failed, we.
The life wanted,
will no longer be.

My loved one,
cannot see,
our memories,
not meant to be.

Our life's adventure,
once so free,
no longer live,
in her memory.

Along the window,
against the pane,
frost is trying
to build again.