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Would you walk, in the shadows
alongside of me,
if you lost your vision,
and could no longer, see?

You were seasoned,
you wouldn't talk.
Now I am the problem,
"New kid on the block."

My eyes light up, as if
a beacon might do,
when I look,
finally seeing you.

You, I remember,
The best of all.
You I would die for,
if that was the call.

No more the window,
no more the door,
as I try crossing the room.

You said you loved me.
You keep telling lies.
What happens on the day,
We say our goodbyes.

Why does it matter,
the look in your eyes,
is welcoming, not,
and we wither and die?

Do you make a difference,
when there are too many whys?
I am tired of hearing,
the sad refrain of sighs.

Be good tomorrow,
for everyone dies,
and once we know,
there will be no surprise.

Four hundred miles,
to the end of the road.
Been driving all night,
with heavy cargo load.

I'm getting sleepy and tired,
starting to yawn.
When I arrive home,
I hope she's not gone.

May the Worlds, you know,
stay forever yours.
May the life, you live,
be filled with your daily chores.

Edward R. Murrow (1908 – 1965) was an American broadcast journalist and war correspondent. He first gained prominence during World War II with a series of live radio broadcasts from Europe. Murrow was co-producer of "Hear It Now", an authoritative hour-long, radio weekly news digest. He moved on to television with, "See It Now" series, which helped lead to the censure of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Murrow is considered one of journalism's greatest figures. 
Quote source: Edward Murrow's last public speech in October 1964, receiving a "Family of Man" Humanity award

A World of uncertainty,
a sign of our times,
where other comments,
are manufactured by design.

Lies which are written,
though the truth was known,
only to be spread for gain,
by others who are home grown.

What has happened,
in a life we reject,
with indifference to others,
lacking common respect?

You called my name,
I turned to stare,
looking all over,
You were not there.

The echos in my mind,
were missing, no sound.
Have you found a new life,
has it been found?

He was no longer here.
He no longer came.
I feel quite badly,
not remembering his name.

I see many people,
many looking the same,
but I still have an issue,
not remembering his name.

Perhaps, you have seen,
all those who remain,
to me it's a mystery,
not remembering his name.

Many the evening,
ignorance was to blame
as I keep struggling,
not remembering his name.

He arrives for breakfast,
I do know his name.
Recognize his clothing.
It's always the same.

Pajama bottoms, pattern I see,
are the same,
morning or night.
Perhaps, that's his only attire?

PJ's, a safe way to go.
I've seen her 10 months.
Always the same clothes.
May have others, I suppose.

Why do we exist,
where memories are of pain,
scarring our Soul,
we are unable to explain.

Why, is a person we love,
repeats over again,
a loss of memory,
nothing will remain.

There are no days,
of just hugs or sighs,
only the sad days
of the long goodbye.

Arose the vassal of desire,
where lust became a fire.
Heat and light, lonely people,
as we wonder, will it expire?