2-2018. Winter has it's moments, but wishing spring comes soon!
On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,
White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,
Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go
Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset
In the blink of an eye It’s a different scene On the big movie screen So easy to get absorbed In the story line of time.
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.