(2014)
Thoughts about pain.
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,
The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
Life is a day dream So they say, With every beat Of my heart, The gate to love
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine