Old Eyes

Old Eyes

When I look into a mirror 

It lies to me

tells me I'm still youthful

for my age

but the close-up photo 

of my eyes

reveals the truth

and old age

is making

my brown eyes

blue. 

Habits of Those Who Struggle With Money

1.       Didn’t finish school
2.       Bad habits
3.       Live beyond your means
4.       Impulse buying
5.       Play the lottery
6.       Couch potato
7.       Hardly working
8.       Hang with the wrong crowd
9.       Pay minimum payments
10.   Lack goals

He Wasn't Dead

Word in the gossip pool:
he lost it, emotionally 
and financially 

couldn’t be trusted, 

barely hanging on, 

wishing he was dead,

but when I called
he sounded great,
clear headed, compassionate,
and completely involved.

Better to stay in touch one-on-one 
then to rely on family gossip
to fill the gaps

and all it took 

was one 
phone call.

The Road To Peace

Sometimes the only way to someplace
is through uncharted land
cutting through the tangled thorns

before stepping on the new terrain
where flowers bloom and streams run clear
where wild life thrives in harmony.

Yet, even in this utopia

the give and take of life
is designed to create a balance. 

Learn to trust in the most violent storms
and know god is present and life
will go on... with or without you. 

Shrinking World

There was a time when
clothes seemed to shrink
but now it's the world growing smaller

steps that lead to the sidewalk
are too high, the distance 
to the curb too far

the weight of a bag 
of groceries, cumbersome
and heavy, 

the height of a cabinet too far
to reach for the slow 
cooker on the top shelf

the mind still expanding, 
still wonder and search
for ideas and conversations,

many of them recollections
of how things used to be
try not to focus on how 

the world is shrinking
and simple things 

have gotten too hard 
to complete.

Grief

He lost the battle tonight at ten o'clock

I will miss him dearly

my heart has broken in a million pieces

I feel so lost.

“I love you my darling

until we are together again.”

In memory of Leo R.I.P.

Words from  his wife Linda

Repair the Infrastructure

A bridge will fall
or water main break
when the infrastructure crumbles

with time and neglect.
Politicians and taxes
combine to find solutions.

Knees ache and hips break
with time and abuse
doctors and medicine try to resolve

the problem but without
cooperation from the body’s host
the infrastructure is doomed to destruction.  

Executor

I remember my uncle,
I visited occasionally
but hardly saw him
as I grew older.

He outlived his wife, siblings,
and children, no grandchildren,
I was the last survivor of all my cousins.

It was my job to execute

his last will and testament.  

He was a wealthy old codger
owned property and stocks,
I needed to go through his papers,
and distribute his assets.

An estate sale got rid of his stuff,
a Realtor liquidated his properties

and turned it to cash.  

I donated some to charity
kept some for my kids
maybe I'll take a cruise,

after his worldly 

goods are divided
before I also

turn to ash.

Great Grandma’s Lap

She was turning eighty

he could barely sit upright

but she held him strong

close to her heart.

His fingers touched her arm
baby skin on paper thin

one giving love

the other taking it in

One cycle ending

the next one starting

tick, tock, 

time passes on. 

Early Morning Phone Call

                                                        

The phone rang early this morning
too early for a sales call,
no family or friends,
unless it was an emergency.

My mind tried to predict
who and what and why
only the sound of , “Hello,”
then a click.

It didn’t matter, except,
it sounded like my sister 
who passed
a month ago. 

Her voice was clear
maybe she had to say
something 

but then remembered 
she was dead

and hung-up instead. 

Wesley Remembers Momma

Mom's sweet soul passed away on Sept. 21st 

due to complications with stage 4 cancer.

She lived her life with optimism, grace, 

and a positive light that all who knew her felt. 

She faced this grave experience with the same 

clarity and serenity I could only hope to adopt. 

I will miss her very much, but her love and humor 

will live on through my thoughts and actions. 

I love you momma!

Children Confront Death

They never knew their aunt but she knew about them
but never took the time to meet them
and now she’s dying and apologized for being remiss
for not taking the opportunity but now it’s too late.

Mama won’t let them see her, 

she thinks they will become confused
with the machines and death by her bedside.

The kids think they need to meet her 

before she goes away
but mama says no, and that’s the way it will stay.

Seems that life is wasted when love is waiting nearby
a smile for a stranger is lost when those who could love you
are waiting in the wings and must settle

the memory of being so close

and not getting the chance to say, 

“Hello I’m glad to meet you,

and now you must go away.”

Afterlife

She said she didn't believe in an afterlife.

"We die and that is that. 

Our best chance for a good life is here and now."

I said I had experiences to make me believe there is more...

when people I knew were close to death, they saw

members of their family gathering to escort them home.

She said, "It was only the chemical reaction of dying

combined with a strong belief system

that created those images."

I asked her is she knew anyone who had died

and was she with them when they were 

close to death?

She said, "I only knew my husband Burt,

who suffered dementia for several years, he became afraid 

when the men in black appeared at his bedside.

We sedated him and he died without incident."

I guess I wouldn't believe either 

if that was my only experience of death.  

Exposed Empathy

While visiting with others their ghosts intrude
whispering their sadness into my bones,
sharing withheld tears and cancerous sores.

It is easier to be out in nature
where sunshine seeps into my soul
birds sing god’s praises and flowers

capture dew to adorn their petals.
Creatures scamper through the grass
and life seems blessed and sacred,

but in the company of humans
I can’t resist their worries and fears
where they reveal their darkness

disrupting my tranquility
taking me where they dwell
in dark caverns at the borders of hell.

When I was younger I could resist
but as I age my boundaries are less secure
I can offer comfort but they want more.

Two Death Notices

In one day I received two death notices
one of a classmate who died after a gallant struggle
against disease and the other from a classmate
whose father died in his sleep after ninety- three years.

Two different deaths, two different amounts

of time on earth, I could be sad but the truth
is both had time on earth to live out their dreams. 

The old man lived his in the quiet of family
long enough to marry, have a career, see

his children graduate and marry. Had time

to play with his grandchildren yet, long enough

to bury his wife and eldest daughter.
Overall he lived a satisfactory life.

She, on the other hand, lived life alone,
other than good works for animal shelters
she never married, a hand full of friends,
a house full of cats and life 
was over just like that.

Will I live as long as the father? If so what

are my plans for the next thirty years. The

thirty years between 20 and 50 were my most

productive, finished school, got married,

had two children, helped raise another,
watched them graduate, bought two houses, 
began a career and traveled to faraway places.

It seems the next thirty, from 65-95, can be

more difficult, dealing with health issues,

and losses, The thing I worry most about

is becoming bored because I am already 
loosing interest in things I’ve done before. 

I don’t want involvement in a serious disease 

to become my answer for something to do. 

I would prefer to figure out how to reinvent myself

get excited about living again and doing

things I've thought were completely 
out of my range of possible. 

The Curtain between Life and Death

Most of us live our lives with a curtain
between life and death established
like a brick wall,  

people can pass through
in one direction, angels make sure
to maintain the barrier.

Then someone you love dies,
if they linger for awhile, you actually
catch a glimpse of what is on the other side. 

My mother talked about 

a large room with many chairs

some were elaborate others very simple. 

The room was full of people she knew
when her grandfather reached out his hand
she knew it was time to go. 

They walked through a curtain 

of flimsy silk leaving it fluttering, 

with their ethereal breeze

and in that moment 

I caught a glimpse of the room 

with many chairs.

The Wary Widow

What she missed most after he died
was her good dancing partner

they learned to dance together
when they were teens, got married

took advanced classes and went out every
weekend to local clubs and dance halls.

Dancing became their favorite pastime
their steps so synchronized and familiar

after several years he got sick, but could still

hold her in his arms and take a spin

across the floor and as much as she loved
him she loved dancing even more

and now that he is gone when she hears
music from their favorite bands she looks

for him, but he’s not there,
and even if a friend offers to dance

it is not the same, the rhythms are all wrong

she sits on the sidelines rather than be

disappointed once again. She has settled

for companionship, occasional dates

to the theater, dinners out and social gatherings

someday to travel across the sea,

but what she misses most of all

is her trusted partner on the floor,

his strong arms to guide her to the music

in perfect step and synchronicity.

Permanent Record

Dying seemed easy
one last breath then release
taking the hand of one who is sent
to guide me through the final steps
to where St. Peter sits atop a podium
waiting with others listening for his call,

I hear my name, he opens his book
to look at my permanent record,
the one the nun’s warned me about,
all previous actions determining my eternity.
I feel a panic, can I plead to go back and do more?
Release me let me return to earth, let me soar

back to physical world where I used to live,
let me tell my loved ones I love them
and ask forgiveness for all my sins,
let me gather them around,
kiss their faces, wipe their tears

let me walk on solid ground.

Let me smell the flowers,
taste my favorite meals, hold hands with my husband
talk into the night, while listening to our favorite songs 
recalling all the good times and those that made us sad
watching the logs burn in the flame,
saying our prayers, calling out His name.

St. Peter does not offer that option
I must wait with all the rest,
some squirming at what the record book holds,
others sitting in quite expectation, knowing
they will be blessed and welcomed into
heaven’s fold, while I wrack my brain
borderline greatness, with mistakes along the way
did I not love enough? Did I stop too soon?

What will St. Peter say?

All Dogs Go to Heaven

Without warning
coyotes attacked
the family pets.


Steve heard the cry 
ran to the backyard
in time to see a pack 
of three scale the fence.

Swifter, the youngest one, 
was injured but still breathing 

Buddy, couldn’t be found
for several minutes then under 
a bush where he breathed his last.

The girls were screaming, how could this be,
the perfect home for their family
violated by these canine intruders.

They gathered their pets and headed to the vet
Swifter didn’t make it and died in Anna’s arms
nothing to do but take the remains
and try to explain to her daughters

why something like this could happen to them.

Marie couldn’t be consoled, cried until she fell asleep,
while Sara drew pictures and wrote poetry
of her little pets, so loyal and loving
now gone, it will be awhile
before they get another one. 

Baking and Making Friends

After her husband died she was lost
wondering how the future would fill her days.
To keep herself busy she pulled out the flour
and other ingredients and made cinnamon buns,
a favorite of her late husband.

The aroma wafted out into the street 

and neighbors dropped by for a taste 

of the sweets. Conversation 

and laughter filled the room.

The next day she baked an apple pie and took it
to the young mother who arrived home with her child.
She didn’t stay but it had a chocolate cake
when the young mother returned it later that week.

Baking was never a chore, something about kneading
the dough kept her mind occupied

and her body strong. She become a favorite friend
throughout the neighborhood. 

Never lonely her kitchen, now a busy place,
friends dropping in sharing gossip and recipes
pumpkin pies and fruit cakes for the holidays
dusting and sprinkling, folding and rolling,
her arms became stronger, her heart larger.

She was favorite for children who knew
when they came home from school

they were welcome to stop by
and have a chocolate brownie
or oatmeal cookie or two.

The more she gave away, 

the more she received.
Days passed quickly
holidays and celebrations 

blended like the ingredients on her pantry shelf
sugar, cocoa, flour, salt, baking soda, cinnamon
a little bit of this, a dash of that.

Cookies cut out and frosted on a window shelf
stories unfolded, relationships made
lives bound together like pie crusts 
and braided bread, 

It is said a church’s walls hold the tears 

and prayers from it's congregation.

Likewise her kitchen filled with the good will 

and love from all the friends she made.