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Wednesday, November 11, 2009


The days for me no longer are Sunday thru Saturday,
the days and nights now mesh into neither light or dark.
I cannot see outside with curtains closed, I sit alone.

The weeks and months now gather fast,
they taunt the years as they go past.
It seems that now in my waning years
I look forward to intermittent moments my pain disappears.

It seems that day after day while I sit alone,
Life goes on outside my door.
My wife departs for work like others, too,
and I try to keep my mind busy, something to do.

When my health and legs were healthy,
early in the mornings earlier than most,
I would spring out of bed to write, to run,
prepare to go to work, eat breakfast with my wife,
some bacon, eggs and toast.

I loved integrating with people through out the day.
Going to work meeting the days challenges then after
attending social and athletic activities,
exercising was so much fun at play.

I welcomed any and all opportunity
rising at a moments notice, living in spontaneity,
traveling with my wife enjoying her hand in mine.
Walking with youthful steps along rustic trails,
inhaling arboreal wafts observing Nature’s fold,
ending on a blanket with a glass of wine.

I look forward for the doctors to repair my other limb,
I will spring up and walk,
finding work, giving my life worth.
Once again I’ll go out and play with others,
night or day, it’s no fun sitting inside alone.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Through my eyes and in reflection
I see the tiny hands holding each other tight
As they walk barefoot to find shelter,
Mom holding in her arms my youngest brother,
A somber yet wondrous recollection.

I recall a piece of bread in my front pocket,
It must last me throughout the day.
Recalling my oldest brother, then ten,
As the oldest and strongest male
With his eyes open wide, his head looks left and right,
rotates all around like an owl on its perch,
Watching over us as we walked along a darken street.

Somehow Mother would find us warmth
Find us food, a loving home.
At that time we had no conception
How hard it was for her to clothe us
Or put shoes on our feet.
Little did we know then, because of this,
Some days she did not eat.

She fed us and clothed us
Through out our growing days
Never exposing us to her own pangs
Of how she worried not about tomorrow
But about our next meal
And how for us she’d care.

I cherished her in later years
Hugged and kissed her, wiped away her tears.
Now that she’s departed probably to heaven’s gate
I try to think of not my loss
But the fondness with her of so many years.