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Local Focus – Global Reach

It matters not,
where you have been.
If it was, done for love
or a conjugal sin.
My sight is dimming,
as my hearing goes
and my body's a mess.
The hair, once luxurious
has started to leave,
as balding approaches.
My ears are starting to sag,
with skin now mottled
but this much I know,
as the climate keeps warming,
some of us must go
to that place of sugar and spice
as long as we have plenty of ice.

It's a strange World we live in,
Full of truths and of some lies,
That may appear quite different
When seen through another's eyes.

A World of great frustration
Or of a lover's sighs.
No matter, what your thought,
We all must now realize,
We are all quite different,
But it should not be a surprise,
That we are all the same
When seen through our God's eyes.

A golden glow.
A low refrain.
A moonless night,
with no rain.
Away we go
to see the Sunrise,
one day more.
Red this morning.
Not a good sign,
for a storm is coming.
A weather change,
of good or bad,
said with disdain.
These words, senseless,
without reason,
when thinking about
the Winter season.

A gentle breeze blows across my brow
as I dig holes for fall plantings.
The problem, I have, with
planting European Bluebells,
is the many roots that grow,
beneath the tree. Not big,
just small roots that must be cut.
Instructions are to plant under a tree
and they will multiply.
I'm anxious to see the results
next Spring.

Sometimes when I'm writing,
I would swear, my mind
Has thoughts of it's own.

With pen in hand, I write
The words that pop into
This brain of mine.
Writing fast, scribbling here,
Unable to read the words
As they fly by, as I attempt to
Write. Oh my goodness
There is no period in sight
To end all this rambling
Prose. There. Finally one
Did appear, but what happened
To the commas?
Did they disappear?
I wish I knew, for it would
Make it clear, that my
Writing sense is not here.

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