The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon

The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes

Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old

When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.

I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,