The frog sits on the ball
thinking about nothing at all.
I can't think, don't you see
for I am a piece of pottery.

Nothing I say.
Nothing I write.
Nothing I do,
Will keep me
Away from you.

I am beginning to see so well
this, recurring, slow ride to Hell.
Dementia rears it's ugly head,
makes me think I am dead
to all those loves from before
are now laying on life's floor.

I remember, as a child
Rain falling on our roof.
No attic or insulation above
Just bare boards and some Tin.
The noise of rain, up above
Would be our lullaby song.
Sleep was pleasant with no pain
When I could listen to the rain.

I try to tell you
of what I do,
to better your life
as I listen to
the girl that I married;
one that I adore.
Please let her live
many years more.

Darkening clouds appear in the West.
Rolled up like black pillows.

No central heat,
no central air.
Just an oil heater
in the living room,
that was only on
if there was company.
The living space
was in the kitchen
where the huge wood
stove was sitting.
The first chore,
in the morning,
was to remove the lid
with a tool,
put in paper
and wood, for fuel.
Touch the paper
with a match,
replace the lid,
open the draft
and soon the heat
was coming fast.
The stove was iron
with a big oven,
where pies and cakes
would be forth coming.
Some pots on the rear
flat top of the stove,
kept items quite warm,
almost all the day.
Potatoes, vegetables
some meat, would
go into those pots
to cook away,
until dinner time.
That's something I
recall, from long ago,
when life was simple
as we listened
to the radio.

I sit here in the chair
with my hands to my head.
I wonder why, in this land
that fate brought pain to thee.
I relish every moment,
we have in this, our life
and dread the day that it is gone,
for you are my inspiration
of what I now do.
What will I be without you?

Sunlight
Another day goes bye
Tomorrow

I feel the pain lodged in my head
are of anguish and the dread
of worried concern; what must be said
about the future of the days ahead.
I must stay healthy and care for you
even if it's the last thing I do.