Moonbeam dancing in the night Fog washing over The hush of the evening Like concrete crashing down Canteen empty Coffee all dried up On the dock, I sit Like an old forgotten novel upon a shelf gj

And You Have Come, Never To Go Away! And We Have Met, To Walk Forever On The Endless Way.. A Promise, Never To Give Up On Each Other, Come What May!

The sparkle of the moonbeams danced in the reflection of this morning’s coffee The hush of the owls palpable in the air hanging like fog on  the misty lake One more sip of fresh water left in the canteen Damn I don’t know if I’ve…

On the day Mary was alone She tried to create her clone She worked with deep brown soil Slaving away in wasted toil ‘Cos Man was dust plus life force A special blend of blood and bone  

poem 10 I still remember how you looked the night we first met, your golden eyes illuminated in the moonbeams. Something about the way you smiled made me feel things, like I was standing at the edge of a dock, about to dive, unsure what…

While sitting on the dock of the bay, Watching the fog settle into a gentle hush, The moonbeam caught my eye. It reflected off of my canteen Sitting there on the concrete shelf.   Damn!  My coffee is cold. I walked over to the fir,…

A ceiling inches from my face Hides the kitchen and my rocker, Collapsed into a tidy bundle. I turn carefully, legs cramped from stillness. Another month or two, then, perhaps I’ll be free. Are they gone? Am I too late to save Only those that…

Is it early Or is it late Frankly I’ve lost All track of time Is the light Streaming in Sunbeams or moonbeams The brain fog Doesn’t even go away With coffee It merely allows For concrete thoughts Damn if I’m not Ready to put this…

And it was all I could do not to sound The coming years of torment I knew was in bound Cause I knew the sound I’d heard it before In the subtle rows Beyond the fields of forgotten I dwelled there for long too long…

Paris in the Fifties Is the last book I bought at the used bookstore. It sings with romance, with champagne, baguette, and brie I will read it in a crinolined Chanel dress And Audrey’s sunglasses, and my feet will not hurt in my high red…