Take this flat, round, stone
I told my son, and daughter too
Throw it hard, spinning it
Across the stilled pond
Count your big splashes
Watch the ripples grow

First stones they threw
Only singular sets of ripples
Then two, then three, then more
Eventually, their stones, with mine
Easily reached the other shore
Splashes, into ripples galore

Ripples formed by casted rocks
Have they lasting print upon
Hearts of those I've loved
Standing now on faraway shores
Gleefully leaping, dancing, tossing
Skipping stones hid in their pockets

Are my stones, living on in ripples
Marked indelible in memories
Cast in mind's marble and stone
A forever legacy or merely
A dimly lit fading thought
In minds and hearts forlorn

Once, when I was young
I knew, I could ripple the world
Now, I only hope a weary rest  
To lay burden upon the shore
Enfeebled arm, for slinging stones
Pond's winter death, comes nigh

A bit of time left, of sweet life
To cast a few more stones
Boulders, to toss into the river
Giving the biggest splash
Heavy to lift, except with help
From other believers in ripples

©  2017 Jim Davis

You forget how to love her and she forgets what it’s like to feel like there’s enough oxygen in her lungs. Oddly spaced breaths and too much blinking – how can she even walk in a straight line these days? You’ll go right, knowing she’ll go left and you’ll lose sleep over it because what you think is best always turns out to be the worst mistake. And you promised her you’d stop trying to solve all your problems by drowning yourself in alcohol and in return she granted you the softness of her skin, the brightness of her smile. Without your drinks – you aren’t yourself. That’s what you tell her. She laughs and tells you she knows who you are, don't worry. And you don’t understand because you don’t even know who you are but you’ll believe just about anything if it means getting out of this and being able to hold on to her and her jasmine scent. She's just like spring; and where you live there's only ever two seasons.

Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams

A  group  of  maples
stand  proudly  in  the  village.

A  vivid  deep  scarlet  in  color
truly  magnificent  trees.

Very  pleasing  to  the  eye.
You  have  to  catch  the  moment  though
Sadly  the  beauty  soon  fades.

As  seen  in  October.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

Passed  the  lake  last  evening.
It  looked  dark,dank  and  threatening.
In  the  fast  fading  light.
The  moody  mountains  stood  tall.
With  thick  mist  swirling  across.
In  ghostly  fashion.
A  complete  contrast  to  the  summer  view.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

.

Happy  Xmas. Everyone.
And  best  wishes
for  the  New  Year.
Many  thanks  for  all  your  support.
Take  care.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.