Public Posts Anacortes, WA Anacortes, WA (zoom)

When it is over,
will you relent,
or have the damages,
left you with your nose bent?

Anger, should be,
to understand,
except when your feet,
are stuck in the sand.

We are Actors,
in our own life's plays.
We play actors in life,
until the end of days.

Our roles, all different,
as they should be,
for we are all players,
in the scenes, we see.

I hope we are called lovers,
by all who we know
and the love is truthful,
once it's decided to go.

I'm happy to know you,
and for all which you do.
My heart, bursts with joy,
whenever I see you.

You are not my love,
to take.
I'm so sorry, if,
your heart, I break.

I sit here,
in early morn,
reflecting about,
when I was born.

A Midwife,
a dining room table, was done.
Out soon, there was born,
a boy. A son.

Naked branches,
across the sky,
a moonlit background.
Why, oh, why?

Do the simple,
things in life.
Create joy,
not causing strife.

Await a visit,
from afar,
while you observe,
a falling star.

Writing words, to paper,
will disappear with disdain,
as overtime,
memories, wane.

Nothing was special,
dreams were fast,
as disinterest prevailed
and didn't last.

You said you
loved me,
but we couldn't let
anyone see.

I understood the reason,
as old as I be.
You are younger,
do we have compatibility.

It doesn't matter, at all,
to me.
The age differential,
will be harder on thee.

Only a few days, remain,
you will be free,
to find someone who,
loves you more than me.

Life's sad tale supplemented,
with love,
Hopefully will be addressed,
by those up above.

He saw her again,
it was yesterday,
Was she a visitor,
or did she, here stay?

Unanswered questions,
not his to say.
When he saw her again,
his heart melted away.

Concentrate on the items in life

An aged, old story,
We hear over again.
Why can life become cruel
And bitter when?

Memories of friendships
are stuck in his head.
A need to write them down now,
or I will forget them instead.

He was a man remembering,
so many others,
be they Mothers or Fathers,
Sisters or brothers.

He was quite fickle,
in many ways,
for he loved most people,
until the end of his days.

He was lonely,
but had many friends.
When asked a question,
he'd say simply, It all depends.

An old writing from January 19, 2018,
in a different style but stirll true today.