A lurch in a church.
A significant smile.
Those beautiful eyes
you use to beguile.
What words are these,
flowing from my mind?
Neither helpful or hurtful,
perhaps even not unkind.
"I like you not", to me she said,
but I'd like you much more,
if you'd change your head
of hair, that you currently wear,
when out and about,
but I'd still love you,
of that there's no doubt.
Sit by my side, she did say.
Stay close to me, please
and don't go away.

Why in this life,
that used to be swell,
has become so much
like a living Hell?

Where do thou go,
when you're talking to I?
Your eyes become dim,
your breath is a sigh.
A sigh so forlorn
that I won't even try,
as I watch you fade
without a goodbye.

Raining so hard
most difficult to see
wet feet for me

I hear it again,
I hear it now.
Telling me words,
Telling me how.
Letting me know,
How very absurd,
When letting go,
Of this place,
It is very nice,
In being seen.
Where ever I go,
I know you,
Can't you see,
That knowing who,
It must be,
I love you,
Do you love me?

Shades of Shale,
a flat type
of volcanic rock,
that would slide
down the hill
where ever you walked.
Yards of rock,
on a side hill,
careful to be
on Nature's spill.
Take one step,
balance a must,
shale will slide,
gliding on dust.
Down the hill,
so carefully,
learning to walk
or how to ski.
Noisy it was,
a rattling sound,
frightening the animals
who were still around.

Over the river, through the trees, they came.
We were being over ran, in this war game.
We fought in the trenches, side by side,
but at battle end, we all had died.
Please say a prayer for my dear friend,
He fought bravely for you until the end.

A bone chilling wind
branches laden with ice
power outages

I'm in the room.
You're there too.
I won't talk
unless you do.
There's no reason,
that is true.
Conversations, no kiss
except "what day is this?"
The TV listings
are her guide.
Lord, I don't know
what's now inside,
That beautiful mind
you always had,
Much smarter than me.
The loss of memory,
You're going through,
I can't imagine
what I would do.

What is this Din of noise, of late,
Filled with the rhetoric of racial hate?
Who are you to cast aspersions,
to cloud the news, is that your diversion?

It matters not, the things you've bought
When your memory goes, they're all forgot.

Coldness of days
frigid nights of snow
warmest of heart

There will be a tomorrow,
that is most certain.
In spite of all the sorrow,
there won't be a final curtain.
That curtain of black cloth,
blocking the morning Sun.
Searching the broad horizon,
looking for our life's fun.
"Is it me?", she said one day.
"I'm sure I'm not the only one,
or can I be sure and say,
my life has now begun?"

Hello to you,
my young charge.
It's good to see
your smile.
I enjoyed our visit,
when last we met
over a cup of coffee.
Memories from
so long ago,
about 20 years
or more.
You still make
me smile.

A gathering is what
we say and do,
when celebrating a birthday
for me and for you.

A creative soul?
I think not.
Writing helps me
untie this knot
of my anxiety,
hidden in my mind.
The worry for another;
a caregiver you are,
for your love to do
the best you can
for she is alone
and now so are you.

I knew it was over
as I entered the room,
for I was overcome
with thoughts of gloom.
Why had this meeting,
with my direct boss
giving me a feeling;
one of great loss.
Our small company was renowned
for its technology making ultrasound
equipment using a Sonar technique,
Allowing Real Time imaging of the heart,
was so highly unique.
It was purchased by a large
pharmaceutical company.
Now the "bean counters" were
trimming the staff very heavily.
My boss told me this story
"The company no longer needed me"
letting you know of your last day, so
all of the managers were let go.
Now I was out on the street
knowing how it felt in a defeat.

I feel the angst inside of me
at the news of his hateful debauchery.

I can't lose these thoughts
stuck in the back of my head.
Thoughts so perverse of me
they might wake the dead.
Words come out so fast,
I try to write them all down.
I must look, if you could see,
like a terrible, grotesque clown.
Please dear Lord, I ask for help,
when you hear this prayer,
for I am lost and now alone
in this cold, cold Winter air.

I don't know you,
so I should not care,
if your life is
filled with love or despair.
Realistically, I do
think about you,
for my compassion
and empathy, every day,
is to pray for your Soul
in my own unique way.
You can't be here
surrounded by laughter,
when every day there
is a new World disaster.