I looked, I saw,
I took a chance.
Now I'm faced with,
an aborted romance.

Was it right,
or was it wrong?
The answer must be,
I don't belong,

in the life I see,
for it must be,
someone else,
not with thee.

The World fears,
many things,
but does not fear,
church bell rings.

Will you be there,
when all is done?
If yes, you're,
the only one.

Within the deep forest,
where trees and ferns grow,
I'd like to be there now,
to watch the Sunset show,

of a lovely horizon,
beautiful and bright,
while waiting for,
the darkest night.

We traveled miles.
We traveled far,
looking oh looking,
to find where you are.

I know you are gone,
over four months now,
as I struggle to be strong,
fulfilling our marriage vow.

I love you more than
simple words can say,
and still miss you,
after you've gone away.

With a surly wind,
and eddies of dust,
may I ask of you,
Is it me you trust?

A casual meeting,
or coffee for two,
I'll tell you about me,
you could talk about you.

Sit. Try not to be,
nervous or afraid
of a possible relationship.
Waters are deep. I'll wade.

Does it make sense,
to sit and wait,
or go to a place,
where we could participate?

Here I sit,
alone again,
waiting for the
phone to ring,

of word from you
and how you miss me.
I won't hold my breathe,
so don't worry, I'll be fine.

What game is it,
we will play today,
which promotes friendship,
instead of running away?

Life is for living,
is what they say,
but who is they,
they will not stay,

to talk about
all the things we love,
but no longer do,
for they never move.

Pressed hard against,
a barren tree,
surprised by an,
evil adversary.

What type of evil,
must I fight,
to escape this foe,
in darkest night?

A Tiger's stripe,
with tail long,
would be replaced,
by a happy song.

Brain decline
has started now.
It's too bad, for I,
don't know how.

I have many words to write,
before I go,
to complete my list,
of what I know.

They're essential to,
what I write,
but sometimes may be,
just simply trite.

Expectations by others of how
we behave when interacting with others,
has influenced, in my mind, how we
think and stifles inquisitiveness.

Off the rail.
Off the wall.
Down the stairway,
Into the hall.

Echos, strange,
they are,
when heard up close,
or from afar.

A lonesome wind,
so cold, so hard,
blowing across,
the Courtyard.

With the Sun
and no more rain,
we will plant,
flowers again.

Flowers, with
colors bright,
ready for the,
first sunlight.