6-2017
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,
On a walk this morning, the rocky cliffs that reach the blue-green sea, talk of strength today.
Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome
In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,
As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,
If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most
Life is a day dream So they say, With every beat Of my heart, The gate to love
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
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
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
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.