I am concerned, that the words I write
Are becoming mundane and somewhat trite.
I don't wish to write that way
As all I want, to say is,
"Please read these words, that might
Intrigue your thoughts on darkest night."
If you don't care, that's okay,
For I will write differently, another day.

In the navy, back in the day,
on board a ship, all painted grey.
Our ship, the USS Marsh, Destroyer Escort,
tied up to Buoy 21, when in port
of San Diego. Many sailors, at this time
would have Liberty for shipmates mine.
Not wanting a uniform was the rub,
civilian clothes, banned on our ship,
not wanting uniforms, to look hip.
Joining a locker club, where you could keep,
your clothes on hangers, not in a heap,
on the floor. The Seven Seas was the club for me,
where my civilian clothes would always be,
when we were at sea. Liberty would
be the call, to lockers of steel not wood,
where we could change clothes, most certainly,
at the Sevens Seas for a small monthly fee.

Beautiful daffodil
Say what you will
Seeing these grow;
Always a thrill.

I recall, from so long ago,
being at a local establishment,
one evening so clear,
that I was dancing with my Mother,
and it was dear.
I said to her, with a grin,
"Mom how come your wedding anniversary
was in June the same
year I was born, in December?"
She looked at me and said, "The first one
comes at anytime, the rest
takes nine months", you see?
I said to her, " most certainly."
I was thirty-two, while she was fifty-one.
I miss you Mom.

The long, slow ride to a pernicious Hell,
is something I've mastered; Mastered it well.

Walking down the path,
at night; all alone.
No flashlight,
not even a phone.
That eerie feeling
when you're in the dark
and this in jest,
no walk in the park.
Thank God, the moon
is back in view,
after going behind
a cloud or two.
This writing that
comes into my mind,
has no meaning,
but allows me
to unwind
away from the worries,
that occur every day.
Oh, I wish I
was just a kid again,
so I could go out and play.

This gem first did appear,
Early Spring, last year.
I know not the name,
But all the same,
I want to capture it
Once again.

Down in the Yakima Canyon,
Oh my sakes alive,
Did that speedometer
Pass ninety-five?
Back in the day,
Gas was 29 cents a gallon.
No emission equipment,
No four cylinder banger,]
Just big V-8's,
With plenty of horses.
Mufflers were replaced
With a Smitties, glass packs
And shiny echo cans,
Protruding under the back.
Did they make noise?
You bet they did,
After all we were still
Being a kid.
I liked to drive fast
And race if I could.
Not legal of course,
But we understood,
That we were,
Invincible.
The folly of youth
Was where we were at.
The king of the road
Or something like that.

The sound of wind, in the trees,
Rushes through the window screens.
The front moves in with much noise,
It even pulls the window blinds.
No rain is seen or heard,
As the temperature has dropped lower.
A coolness in the Summer air,
Should bring some relief tonight,
So we can sleep the sleep
That dreamers do. Will you?

An interesting plant
We have here.
You think it's gone
And it reappears.