It had been in the gutter,
the longest of time.
A terrible place to remain,
no matter the time.
Some youthful misdeeds,
a long ago time,
never repeated again.
A terrible place for a mind.

A pot,
a kettle,
a Wok,
a saute pan,
are all my utensiles,
I look to use,
when I cook.

Where is the noise?
Where is the fury,
when we hear the wind
in a big hurry?
No thunder; no lightning,
as you continually said.
Why? Did you guess wrong
once more?

Brown is the color
of my true love's eyes.
Eyes, which follow
my every move,
with a sadness or looking away,
when I am gone.
I know not what to say.
Returning home, I'm greeted with love,
a licking of my hand.
My hand gives a head rub.
You are so handsome, I say to he,
for you are my friend,
in this life of uncertainty.

He walked or swayed,
like the oldest tree.
His limbs were thick,
rough and scarred,
beneath his own Canopy.

A wall of time.
A pane of glass.
Where is love
in our life's morass?

Fly away,
oh, Blackbird fly.
Lift your wings
into the sky.
Fly to the beat
of a different drum.
Survey all you see,
flapping your wings,
as you soar,
over the path,
of life in play.
Enjoy your time,
for I know you,
won't stay.
You were my strength,
when the World was dim.
Go your own way,
where ever you must.
Be the brave soul.
In God we do trust.

Sticks and cloth,
high up in the tree,
the remains of a kite
is what I see.

Harvesting hay,
providing the feed
to horses and cows,
it's what they need,
to provide dairy
or win a great race.
For tilling the land,
to raise crops
for the hungry,
as we harvest in full,
providing abundance,
for one and for all.

I awoke at 4 am,
another night lost,
for 3 hours sleep
is now my cost.
I will yawn and
be tired all day,
realizing sleep is
a few hours away.

It's Sundown time once more
as she ruffles through old Christmas
cards. She'll read the names
and I will answer to her,
"our nephews family or
co-worker from long ago."
When she did this in the past,
it bothered me some,
but now I know it's her
way to remember the past.

I have no time
to sit and to mope,
for as an adult,
I act like a dope.