Well
this is goodbye
my one true love,
The flowers on the sill
are a wilting.
It was just a
matter of time
once you knew
my frailties and charms,
You would have been a leaving.

The days were hot,
Now they've turned cold,
We could ask where did
the fireworks go,
Do we need to know?
Really does it matter?

Don't waste your poetry
on the likes of me,
I'll be leaving
after the sun goes down
when you are sleeping
peacefully.

Our one true love,
This poem will
become
one more forgotten
memory.

We don't have to wait,
Halloween comes every day,
Shadow figures on their way,
The side show
The freak show
The funhouse across the bay,
We go there on purpose every day.

My light is kind of
fading I can see it
in the mirror
I can't quite see my way
to make it there today.

Your flashlights
in this funhouse Darkness
continues
to light the way,
for lost and wandering souls
as it has every day.

Humor
Grace
The soul whisperer
A lone long walker
The warrior spirit
A solo ocean swimmer
The darting eyed organizer
with the heart of gold
A stand-up comic
The old old sage
willing to fight it out
in the bleakness factory
every day.

As I make my way
to the exit sign
I can hear the five o'clock
screams
the lobby scene
cops dragging
a woman
screaming my name
I go anyway.

For those kind souls
left behind
as
the listener hums a tune
in his own mind
closes the door
one last time
with a sigh,
finally
has left it
all behind
saying
a
short prayer to the passing
of time,
for those who put their
love and compassion
on the line
in every way
every day.