Some days it seems, I have been
married my entire life
to a beautiful woman
who is now my wife.
Of all the things that I could be,
only happened because of she.
The support she gave so readily,
was done with elegance and dignity.
What will happen, when she goes away?
I suppose I will know on that fateful day.
Some days it seems, I have been
I know not what I write,
I know not at all.
The words that pour out
are not mine I write,
for there seem to be no
thought in my mind,
other than writing the words.
Hopefully they're not trite
but have meaning to you,
it's for you that I care,
no matter the issue,
no matter the time,
my wish for you
is Peace and be kind.
I enjoy reading your posts
Laying in bed, words all of jumble;
I'm not writing them down,
for I will not tumble,
into this pit of worry
or feeling sorry for me.
Oh dear God, help me out of this mess
of seeing my beloved, slipping away.
What can I do, on this miserable day?
My love for her is still there;
She knows me not, I'll not despair,
for I know her and always will.
My love for her gives me a thrill.
I know these words, corny they are,
but they're my words, they surely are.
Across the meadow; a meadow so keen,
a beautiful setting if you know what I mean.
Follow the trail, don't cut through the weed,
and you'll be rewarded, oh yes indeed.
A little sound, could be heard, perhaps a bee,
flying from flower to flower, with great speed.
The Glen was as pristine as you could see,
as I waited patiently; waiting for thee.
A romantic setting, is what I recall,
a precious spot for one and all.
I think of you, my young friend,
wondering if we might have been,
star crossed lovers, in another life,
or if we married and you were my wife?
You left me so sudden, saying
if you need help, just let me know.
It's been two months, plus a few days
and my mind is now in a haze.
Contact me please, I say to you
for at this time I worry about you.
A single line of Tulips
across the hallowed ground,
lies the remains of our heroes
where they always will be found.
There lies Sgt. Smith;
a marker with his name,
who gave his life for Country
for a World he never knew.
He lies, interred, in the ground
for all, not just a few.
Pray for him and the others
at this most revered site,
for they were all our Brothers,
who died the noble fight.
Where will I be without you?
What will my life be
if you aren't with me?
Grief ridden thoughts abound
in this aged head of mine.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself.
Please stop with the whine.
You must be stronger;
don't let her see
the sadness in your eyes.
She said before
she doesn't like to cry,
so I must be careful
and hide the wetness in my eyes.
Be brave, strong and stoic,
that is best for me.
Keep your tears well hidden,
please don't let her see,
the weakness in me.
Words. Words. Words,
the most beautiful of things.
The delight in my writing
is giving words their wings.
Wings to fly across the page,
where you can surely say,
words that make me feel
so good, each and every day.
Take these words, as written.
Place in your memory,
let yourself be smitten,
love in your own way.
A box of words, stood alone,
high up on the shelf.
Words that had been used before
in another way or else,
some that were always hidden,
never being brought to light.
For they were forbidden words,
to be kept locked up tight.
Mean and cruel words, they were
causing heart ache, when
used in strings, almost everywhere.
What words are they, I hear now?
Blasphemous words, you say to me.
Well please explain how,
the words I love to write with Pen,
on a ruled, bound up book,
when I am writing now,
the last time I did look.