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Eiram N Jun 2017
I love the sun, but the moon I love more.
I know After Dark, softly weaving and settling
down on things that in daylight aren’t quite so pretty,
the comfort of 2 am, the blanket blackness of anonymity.
Through the city it is the rustle of lone voices
that against the silence shouts,
Saying it’s okay to be broken
with the candid closure that’s all about.

And with the humdrum rise and fall of every being’s chest
the pulsating heart in each human soul
there lies those who sleep in the contentment that
the nighttime knows it all.

                                  By Eiram N
  Jun 2017 Eiram N
Joel M Frye
The question is not when we meet our end,
but how, and how does not mean what you think.
Should it be fought, or welcomed as a friend?
To that I say, live to the very brink
however you have lived to now.  Each one
who walks though shadowed days finds their own pace;
some stride, some cringe, some stumble, others run.
What each can handle is what each will face.
If talking seems to help, then speak.  Or you
might soldier on, clad in your armored will.
No one can tell another what to do,
just what they've done, for better or for ill.
The path, if smooth or bumpy, is your own
and should you choose, you need not walk alone.
Some days all I can do for another is pray...and at the time, it never seems like enough.  Kol tuv.
  Jun 2017 Eiram N
phil roberts
Lay back in the afternoon sun
Next door's tired child cries half-heartedly
Having worn herself out in the heat
Mother makes soothing noises
As she takes her indoors
And I'm just soaking up the rays
My skin getting darker
And my hair going whiter
I am at peace with my piece of world
Listening to sparrows chattering
And a blackbird serenades
From the top of a nearby tree
As my dog diligently patrols the garden
My eyes closed against the sun
I drift to other places

                                      Phil Roberts

— The End —