Strangers we are once again.
You were my closest friend.
All the socializing of the past,
disappeared. My was it fast.

Across this land of broken dreams.
Across this land of abject sorrow,
Comes now a better day,
A more beautiful day on the morrow.

I won't write.
I won't complain,
when there is no taste
to an acid rain,
which falls from clouds,
while we must remain
in this saddest World,
with tears, which stain
our cheeks; coursing down,
on a loved ones pain.

A path between good and evil,
winds through the conscious mind.
A direction, taken in error
may be a detriment to mankind.
What evil lies, in the hearts of men,
who care not about the lives they see,
resulting in a lack of common decency?

The lost moon,
a void horizon.
An empty sky;
Where's the brightness
to catch my eye?
Come back now.
Return to me,
for in the darkness,
I cannot see.

I heard the Owl,
who saw the Crow,
on the Azalea
playing in the snow.

Someone said, "The eyes are the window
into the Soul.
This thought comes from a place,
like any other.
A mystery this one, plain
but not forgiven.
Why now? You ask of me
for these words are soon forgotten,
while I await the coming dawn.
If only it were certain.
These words make no sense,
for they will be gone tomorrow,
as all the yesterday's gather
into the memories of happiness
and sorrow. Go from here.
Leave me be. Don't play games,
with those I love, for I know you
better than all who will follow.

Over the fields,
through the woods;
the paths I trod,
facing a reality here,
among a nation,
wrapped in fear.
A virus has taken
so many lives,
with the gnashing
of one's teeth.
A long sudden ride,
from the happiness
when we knew,
what was happening,
now. A fear
manifesting so soon.

My thoughts now run amok.
No hate, just a wonder
of where in this life
did we run asunder?

The rocks are hard.
My feet are bare.
Where is the sand?
It was everywhere.
I need to hurry,
A very strong urge,
Watching the creatures scurry
Before the strong surge.
The Ocean, a Sea
With waves now rising.
Up to my knees.
The dream is over,
I'm awake in bed.
Why are my feet wet?
Dry is my head.
Another dream, with emotion
When I see the beautiful Ocean.

He went down the path.
An old trail to some,
Towards a place of adventure,
which was yet to come.
A road, he could see,
could very soon become,
a date with his destiny.
He came to the edge
of a wide canyon below.
Venturing forth now, with eland;
down life's trail he went
to become a new man.
The trail he trod,
was his most recent challenge.
A challenge, from his God.
Be a kind person,
the rest of your life.
Provide care to others
as well as your wife.
For her I will be,
the pillar of her strength,
doing it now, for I love thee.

Where to start, where to begin,
When do we talk about
The poison within?
It lies deep inside, this body ours,
Manifested by fear and hate.
Trusting no one; only what you see,
Believing liars and their hypocrisy.
Avoiding the truth; idolizing the aberration
And the internal root of our Nation.
What good things still remain inside,
The hateful vengeance; what we see,
When someone else, decides to disagree.
The pent up hate, inside a Soul.
The pain and anguish will take its toll.
They hide amongst us, oh they do,
Being friendly but not liking you.
We must rid the hate from within;
Living our lives; free women and men.

Don't run away.
Don't leave me too soon.
You must remember,
I promised you,
The Stars and the Moon.
Stay with me now.
Stay with me please,
For I beg forgiveness.
I'm down on my knees.
Praying for you Love.
You're what I need,
If I am to be able
To fulfill this need.

My mind is a wonder.
No it's not what I said.
The word is wander,
Not wonder. I'm here, not dead.
The eldest son of a second son,
my role in this World,
has work, which is still undone.
What do you make of the noise,
during these craziest of days,
when the Trump supporters
continue to support and praise,
for someone who does not
care about them and goes away.

A young boy, shy and forlorn,
quiet since the day he was born.
His only shoes were quite scuffed,
clothing was clean but tattered and torn.
He played with others
when ever he could,
but most of the time was by himself,
behind the house, deep in the Wood.
This shy, retiring , bashful guy
would get anxious and
sometime he would cry,
for someone to help him.
To tell him "this is your day."
Play when you want and
do whatever you say,
but treat all people as a friend
and if you do that for life
it will be real and not "Let's pretend."

Where have you been, my darling wife?
You left again. It was last night.
You body near me, mind gone away.
I miss our talks, not here today,
For logic and reason, aren't in play.
You'll get better, for this I pray.

The heart will always know
where it would like to go.
The brain, has the pain,
saying No more, once again.

The image, mine, in the mirror,
was slowly fading; about to disappear.
"An omen?" Someone asked me.
"Your spirit" I said, "We agree,
is going; slowly now, from thee.

Fate can be funny,
It can be sad.
Sometimes it is good,
It also may be bad.

My favorite, during isolation,
was the discovery we made,
which brought us great elation.
The Rooster Bakery out
Woodinville way, on the East
side of Highway 202, as you
head South from Woodinville.
It is an oasis; a refuge,
with it's open patio, surrounded
by high walls of grape vines.
During clear days the patio was
lovely. When there is "foul" weather,
we go indoors, to a cozy setting,
amongst the many antiques.
Both proprietors are friendly,
courteous, warm and gracious hosts.
They have taken an interest in my
wife, who has Dementia and treat
us like Family. For this I am very
grateful.
As an aside, their wine and spirits
are made on premise. There is a
lovely arrangement of baked goods
including a wonderful Lentil soup.
A tasting room has wine made in the
old style and a broad assortment of
brandies.

When someone calls you Dumb"
Consider the source; who it comes from.