Dad’s Fading Away

Like leaves falling off of trees with the advance of winter

my Dad’s memories are caught up in the winds of change

as he struggles to remember my name

I watch his eyes wander off to other times

back to the “good old days”

when he was young and viral

a proud Marine and father of three

he will always be

my hero

sometimes his eyes are clear and when he looks at me

I can see the man he use to be even though he’s ninety-three

sometimes suddenly he talks rationally

but those days are fading away

as I watch him every day

waiting for a miracle to come his way

I wait

and pray

***

A Brief Look at Redemption

He rocks back-and-forth on the rickety wicker porch chair. He’s everyman, late in life with wrinkles distorting a once smooth face, and body. His life wasn’t spent seeking redemption in real time. His subconsciousness never gave a hint of being interested in the subject.

Memories did sometimes rudely intrude upon his daily routine and reality. As a combat veteran he was intimately acquainted with death. The sight. The smell. The moment he fired at a human being. The horror.

But he just keeps on rocking in his wicker chair every day, a modern response to Old Man River who just kept rolling on.

He isn’t plagued with regrets on not being “saved” by any religion, or by being led to redemption like a sheep on the way to being sheared.

Freedom is his redemption for being alive and having survived many perilous times in his long life. His arthritis a badge of honor. His physical scars medals earned during a long life of adventures. His silver hair a crown of achievement.

He makes no claims of having redeemed others from sins and stupid moves in their lives. He never wanted to lead others to the top of any proverbial mountain. He’s unaware of ever being anyone’s leading light in life.

He just keeps on rocking in his wicker chair every day, a modern response to Old Man River who just kept rolling on.

the end

Be Still

Focus inward if you will

to that inner voice

that whispers be still

listen

breath

inhale

exhale

be open

to what’s

spoken

from the

heart

murmers

in the mind

listen

breath

inhale

exhale

be still

and learn

to be kind

and expand

your mind

Affairs of the Imagination

it’s always been there…

my flirtation

with a runaway imagination

a cozy affair unhindered by reality

everything I wanted it to be

worlds opened like oysters

in the fertile fields of my mind

mysteries solved uninhibited

access to a fantasy land

that does not sleep or confine

the affairs in my imagination

which are open for all to see

my ideas wander on the verge of reality

I know the end will come for me

soon enough my body will be free

to fly where my imagination

can’t currently see

Good Morning

I hated getting up in the morning when I was in school

giving up delicious dreams to attend classes wasn’t cool

when I was on my own and working nearly every day

dragging my body out of bed in the morning wasn’t child’s play

but

now that I’m retired and have no place I have to go

I wake up early to watch the sunrise’s beautiful tableau

Emerald Dreams

in the dream there was an emerald glow

that enveloped me

as I walked

through the snow

seeking the mystery

that led me

into an unknown land

guided by the emerald glow

I sought answers from the gods

and wizards I didn’t know

my dream guiding me

into unknown country

where I walked on clouds

to see what I could see

it’s always exciting to me

when my emerald dreams

take me to new places to see

and I begrudge the long days

that are reality

waiting

patiently

for sleep

to envelope me

Ain’t It Grand?

I knew an old lady who use to say

Ain’t it grand?

Every day

about subjects big and small

on local people

and the town hall

her positive attitude

on all subjects

earned everyone’s gratitude

and the local newspaper ran

her column about the community

and her love for this land

readers looked forward every week

to read about their town’s activities

that were so unique

alas!

all good things come to an end

but she’ll always be remembered

as a godsend

Diary Reverie

the writer waited until he hit a century

before releasing the rights to his diary

while flipping through the pages one night

his still-active imagination took flight

and he was a young man again

as far as he could ascertain

and a young lady came near

and whispered in his ear

they went for a walk

and had a lovely talk

and

when the writer’s son

came to visit the next day

the old man had passed away

with a smile on his face

that showed

he was in a better place