A Resident Passed
• 11/30/23 at 09:34PM •A resident passed away,
an Angel wept, in sadness.
There is a new resident,
experiencing joy, in Heaven today.
A resident passed away,
an Angel wept, in sadness.
There is a new resident,
experiencing joy, in Heaven today.
Don't be alarmed
at the words which I write,
as I find myself
lonely at night.
The words aren't an
invitation to a dance,
just a lonesome old man,
not looking for romance.
Someone to talk to,
frequently or occasionally,
a platonic relationship,
between you and me.
I don't wish to remember
this month of November
or the things which happened
to me when.
Nuff said.
Hold back the water'
Shore up the dam,
for I am floundering.
I don't know where I am.
Forlorn the feeling,
indifferent to me,
for no matter the thought,
I no longer can see.
I don't understand,
up to this day,
why the emotional needs,
were here, are gone away.
A quest remains
to secure the grail,
to hand search the land,
without travail.
Search the forest,
inspect the trees,
for someone's hiding,
apparently, with ease.
Outward it splayed,
as if a branch on a tree.
"My goodness," I said,
"it was pointing at me."
What could it be
to cause this alarm?
Was it intended to be good,
or would it bring harm?
Most warning signs,
which come in the night
are intimidating and
may cause you to take flight.
How often must we
or others prepare,
if we don't receive guidance,
when we should be aware?
You approach,
now you are here.
I'm happy, for it's
your voice I hear.
I am a creature,
on my own,
liking to observe,
watching, no phone.
I like to talking with you,
but not on the phone.
I feel the warmth
in your voice tone.
Your voice,
like honey to a Bee.
When I hear you,
I'm where I should be.
I don't want to write,
to scare you away.
I mean to write
to hear you say,
I like what you write.
Do more of it how?
I want to understand,
where you are now.
A tormented mind
is what I see,
not for her but
the old fool me.
The fire drew dim,
when the embers cooled.
So true in life,
it pays to not be fooled.
As in life, we must,
stoke life's fires,
as a day draws out,
a small flame becomes a pyre.
Life's fires spring forth,
almost every day.
Put them out quickly,
to avoid a phased array.
There are times,
quite a few,
when I realize why,
I write like I do.
My interest in people,
knowing quite a few,
inspires me to write,
so it's what I do.
A vision of smiles
and eyes of blue
or brown are also
lovely too.