The blade of light attacked my closing eye lid and revealed the morning sun to my open eye.  I awoke with the first thought of going outside with my brother to play with the new toys we got for Christmas.  We did just that, as our backyard became a world itself as we flew our hypersonic jet and war helicopter over the forest carpet grass.  There was no worry that could destroy this moment. Just two brothers playing in the winter Texas sun.  That backyard was full of stories like that.  I often look back to them and find my worries dissolve away.  Strange how beautiful moments such as those could cut through the storm of worries as the sunlight cut through an open spot in my curtain to wake me to a new day of play and joy.  It's as if those core memories had been kept to remind me that happiness is always there.

I sit here on
my 57th birthday
and listen to
Mozart in G minor.
I'm at peace, finally.
Gone are the
grass stains and
scabbed up knees.
I don't climb
trees anymore, but I
do see them.
The brilliant orange
and yellow leaves,
all cracked and happy.
I can smell pumpkin spice,
and hope smells like
a coffee crescendo.
I had fish for dinner.
It's never too late to
start eating healthy.
Life is a symphony.

heavy rain from a darkening sky
and buildings  fall

no one knows what will be left
running down the nowhere
where dreams die
on a metal tray
at the hospital morgue

trouser leg pushed up
the search for black ink
and a child's name
begins

perhaps the arm
the hip

the back?

and the children plead,
lie to me,
tell me,
i won't die,
today

and the silent screams
are left in an eternity of why?

foul and bitter hearts
will prevail
on both sides,
this is the poetry of death