Here we are,
once more.
A very small fear,
of the loss of
your memory and recall,
which has gone away
and will no longer be,
yours to bring forth,
for others to hear
and all to riminess,
of the adventures we had
during this life of ours.
A captured image, now gone,
we must work hard,
and keep moving on.

Forlorn is the cat
who waits patiently
for someone to appear,
so it can still see,
the caring picture of love today.
I hear him now and will
stay, not go away.

A lost soul
now lives with me,
knowing not where
she should go or be.
Being alone
within her body shell,
I cannot imagine
what type of Hell,
she sees every day,
for there is nothing
to change the way,
for her memories
no longer stay.

This old heart is aching,
it is broken in two.
I would like to fix it,
but uncertain what to do.
Can't mend it with sutures
nor use string or glue.
My only known solutions
is to keep on loving you.

Why do I write the words,
so simple of sound,
when no one is here,
no one around.
I try to write,
about happier times,
with straight flowing words,
which often won't rhyme.
I don't know why,
is what I must say,
for when I write,
the words come out this way.

An aging story
of an old, old man.
A year gone by
without a plan.
A wasted year,
since it began.
A year of lockdown.
One year of restrain,
we cannot regain,
as the time has been lost,
an old mans refrain.

My verse is lame,
like a three legged dog.
It could be worse,
like a two legged frog.
A frog who would jump
and land on its face.
Oh what a failure;
a frog jumping disgrace.

I have been most fortunate
in this life of mine.
May I ask you a question?
Will you be my Valentine?

A golden Moon, brings its rays,
to the place where you lay,
upon the sand, beneath the trees.
Thanks be to God, one more time,
for being there, to hear my words.
Words of gratitude for allowing me
one more day, where freedom
and a good man now leads this Nation.
A man with class and compassion,
who cares about the working man.
Give him strength and help him Lord,
with all your might, to make it,
through the long, dark night.

A blanket of snow,
covers the ground.
The silence is golden,
with no noise around.
We are stuck at home,
while very much alive.
It is moments like this
when I want a four wheel drive.

A pain in my belly,
has now settled in.
I am uncertain
as to when it began.
A first worry is Covid19
or is it the result
of your shot of vaccine?
A new worry
or just a bad scene,
must be considered,
as there's no in between.

I am becoming a most cynical host,
who dislikes this Worldly, elusive ghost.
The aspersions said, is what they are,
should be served cold, not from a jar.
Leave this place, here now and retreat,
then take a hike. Sit down. Take a seat.