Written after a trip to the seashore, 4-2023.
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.
Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure
Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
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,
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without
Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,
Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go
At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,
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.
One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…
Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion