I am next to her, in our bed.
Reaching out to touch her arm,
to make sure, she is here with me.
A sign of weakness or being afraid
she won't be there when I awake.
Not knowing what will come next in life,
I reach out to touch my lovely wife.

It matters to me not
what is being said
for the last thing I'll do
Is NOT vote for red.

No matter the pain this life brings,
Please let some love pass on gossamer wings.
A love from the twanging of my heart strings,
Will bring the joy, as my Soul sings.

A shadow passed over my window today.
An omen perhaps, of a coming sad day.
What can you do, when you control not
your personal scene? It can't be bought
but may soon be seen, as we manifest
in life to somewhere between,
a rock and a hard place.
Why is our life so troubling to me
when all I want is for you and thee
to be happy together in the life of ours
and not need the medicine in jars.
I pray to God, the Lord above
and will maintain our profound love.

Goodbye,
farewell,
adieu.
I find
now, I
can no
longer
write for
you.
May your
life be
enriched,
in what
you do,
for my
mind has
from the
coop, flew.
A sound
thought now,
escapes me
too.
Oh Lord
now what
to do.

How does a sharp, intelligent, complex
personality change into a very simple soul,
with no knowledge or understanding
of local or world events?
A simple soul she is this day,
wanting not. She doesn't pray
for help from above for
she relies on a forever love.
I miss the girl I married.
I miss the memories of our past.
I enjoy talking to her socially.
I find it challenging to instruct
her in the personal aspect of life,
knowing she does not retain
anything that I teach her.
She is a simple soul, who cares
about her granddaughters
but struggles to recall their names.
Goodnight, sweet dreams, my love.

Singles arrive and couple up.
Not as you might think but
more the Geriatric group.
Is it a rendezvous?
Or just a meeting of
old friends, or strangers
making a new acquaintance?

My hand reaches out for she.
as we drive in the car.
I want to touch her,
so she will see, my love.
She pulls away, from my touch
for she no longer likes my hand.
I suppose I should know,
realizing she doesn't understand,
for I only want to grasp her hand.

If a Rose is a Rose,
what do you suppose,
is the plant by my toes?
It was pretty, once
and went away.
The foliage, not much.
Just want to say,
will it grow anew?
This I will pray
it will come again
on a new Spring day.

What an embarrassment,
you are so uncouth,
talking too loud
saying your untruth.