Deliver something beautiful
Just give it one last try
An effort worthy of your time
As well as my reply
There is no poet here today
no soul, no words, no rhyme.
I fear the poet’s gone away
to return perhaps in time.
For all I ever wanted
was to leave behind a trail.
Some proof that I had been here
For my children to unveil.
A legacy for them to find
one day when Mom is on their mind.
She’s found a place where she can hide
And when she’s scared she crawls inside
In there, she can escape reality
She goes there often on her own
To think or cry or be alone
Where no one can malign her misery.
She tried to hide within the room
But seekers flocked to fix her gloom
They’d find her under table, desk or shelf
And so she chose the only place
Where no one can invade her space
When she’s afraid she hides inside herself.
Retirement’s a someday goal
residing in our dreams
But doing nothing, as a whole
Is not all that it seems.
The wealthy live to travel ’round
the world, in stately manner
For them the oysters are abound
while the world is our banana!
Containers are meant to hold
The milk, until it’s gone
Once empty (and without regret)
We toss it and move on.
And so it is I wish to leave
Not wrapped in stately silk
Why preserve and forever grieve
A container without the milk?
Snowflakes drifting sideways
Skies a gloomy grey
Becomes the norm
Please winter, go away!
The warmth is at a minimum
as shade demands its way
Stiff branches drip
from stem to tip
devouring each ray.
A bud will form
the branch will swell
to fill with sap and seethe
bursting forth until the tree
Has found its time to leave.
The strength it takes to be a man
admired by the masses
Is absent in his trembling hand
in search of reading glasses
His tired eyes still hold that light
that never seems to dim
A love of life for which he fights
still flows from deep within
He longs to be a hundred years
upon this Mother Earth
At eighty-nine he’s faced his fears
God must have seen his worth
The road ahead will challenge him
to gain back what he had
I have no doubt he’ll fight and win
this man of men, MY DAD!
I hear a tiny footstep from the past
A whimper from the room just down the hall
I try to capture them and make them last
But soon they fade away and high hopes fall
The walls are filled with moments etched in time
Sweet memories of little ones abound
I labor to preserve such things sublime
Until reality comes back around
And so it is, they’ve grown, and left the nest
That once provided them with all their needs
And found their place out there among the rest
Of all I’ve ever done, they’re my best deeds
My heart will keep the little ones inside
While marveling at the seeds I’ve sown, with pride.