For want of love,
a life was lost.
For lack of love,
what is the cost?
Would you love someone
who is completely lost,
or flee the scene,
no matter the cost.

The wind, on this warm summer day,
chases green leaves, much too soon.
Excessive heat, burns plants and crops,
ruining fruit and plants alike.
Wind builds the heat, dries the grass,
creating another season; a furnace blast.

Do you remember
the hoot of an Owl?
Or the sound of breaking glass
when wrapped in a towel?
Unlike the Owl,
who calls out my name
of all the new pain
of losing your memories,
all over; once again.
The caw of the Crow
when it's time for a feed,
is all they want and need.
A songbird now sings
in a tree, over there,
a pleasant sound in the Summer air.

A rawness,
a rasp,
crept from
his throat,
using his voice
when he first awoke.
A pain
deep within
was all
which he felt
in spite
of those,
who watched
from place
quite safe.
No matter
the time,
no matter
from where,
if you knew
or weren't
even there.
Say not
to me,
one word
or two
about this
rambling bit
of adieu.

A shiver ran down my back.
It's been so long, I lost track.
What caused this rippling of nerve?
Is it a new feeling, I don't deserve?
A shiver of nerve, followed by this,
at a time in the World,
when I had my first kiss.

The wayward Sun, is like our Son,
full of music with a dose of passion,
for he has always been a guitar man.
An acoustical one, playing in his fashion.
Progressive Rock and Roll he says he plays.
Spending studio time to create a CD Action.
His musical talent, as he plays his songs,
brings forth a noise; to me a distraction,
but he loves it so, he will play
as his band becomes the latest music attraction.

Is it domino
or domani.
A time to go,
a time to flee?

How do you write about aging,
when you have gotten so old?
Do you write of mistakes you've made,
or tell all the tales, you were told,
as you wandered through life?
Down life's jagged path,
recalling the memories of your
checkered past. A part
of mundane events and mistakes.
Oh, it's time to leave,
as we take another break.

I am strong,
I am bright,
at least my mind
believes I am right.
Here to write a new ode,
about a woman,
who dwells in my abode.
Her Dementia, on this day,
has gone into the Sundown
phase as I do say.
She starts to look
at old paperwork
or a new book.
She will ask questions about
life long friends
and when she asks
about their name,
I will tell her so,
again and again.

If I mangle
your mango,
is it mangocide?
Stupid the words,
still I tried
to make this verse
become justified.

I run.
I hide.
I cannot flee.
I am stuck here.
I do not see.
I am her keeper.
For an eternity.
I have no life.
Neither does she,
for my sweet wife
is to always be,
her guardian protector,
a time for me.

There is some light,
but there is no sound.
To hear the music,
of life's sweet abound.
Go where you must,
get out of town.
Enjoy yourself now,
while there is time.
Be happy in life
and toe the line.