The far side of heaven
is where I hope she will be,
standing by the Pearly Gates,
waiting there for me.
I hope she will wait there,
in case I'm running late,
for I may not be inside,
but outside the Pearly Gates.

The Colt was born,
in blazing Sun.
His legs all gangly,
wobbling as he
tried to run.
Always a joy,
with much delight,
to see a newborn
take steps; a new flight.

You have left, once again.
I know not where you go,
it's then I realize,
I'm no longer the one
who enjoys our past life,
which Dementia has undone.
I'm alone in this life,
though you are here with me.
My love is still strong
and strong it must be,
for you are the one
who God made for me.
I love you now and what's more,
I will love more than ever before.

I lay in bed
with a thought of Ewe
in my head.
For counting of sheep
is supposed to help you sleep.
I hear a neigh in my ear,
for I can't disappear,
as the evening is nigh.
Oh, wait. I need to explain,
I'm talking of reign;
not talking about rain,
for if I do there,
it will be pain (ful)
as I place my head through
the window pane.

Looking out the window pane,
the streets are wet
with a Springtime rain.
As I lookout I bet,
the newspapers
may be dry, hopefully not wet.

Last night you talked to me.
Your words got in the way.
You kept calling me Joe,
and then you said Scott,
then back to saying Joe.
I know I shouldn't have,
but it is what I did;
I asked you for my name
and you said, "It's Joe."
It isn't my name,
and I told you so
but you continued
to call me Joe.

From the cold waters of Lake Lenore,
come the voices from a bird haven.
Dark as night, not a Crow but a Raven.
A bird who will blot the Sun from the door,
saying over and over again, "Nevermore."
What sayeth now? I asked of him.
He wouldn't say but he looked grim.
"I have no words, to say to you,
for I know you always abhor,
a bird who talks, saying, Nevermore.?"

I don't give a dime
for your thoughts today
or any amount of money
to hear you say.
"I don't want any money,
just your input,
but at the end of your request,
you ask for more money.
Every request I hear
is stated as if its the
end of the World.
You need to understand,
the old fable of
"The Boy Who Called Wolf."
Too many urgent requests
loses the intensity of
being truly an emergency.

Sunlight drifting, near and far,
touching grass, across the yard.
Why does the Sun I see
bring forth a serenity?

When our first sunny day,
slowly fades to night.
We'll see all the birds
leave, as they take flight.
The Sun slowly slides
down the edge of the sky
with a beautiful sunset
and I ask, "Why?"