how the years go sailing past! they go by in a blink!
one day i pause and grasp the thought, t'is later than i think.

i bury friends and family and start to realize,
i’m mortal after all, my friend ... and everybody dies.

i take an inventory of life's sorrows and it's joys
rememb'ring most the happy times and all my little "toys"

i think of goals accomplished and my failures just as well.
i think of things i can't unsay and doubts i cannot quell.

mortality, that bane of man, seems but another's fate
and miss my own life's pageantry, with naught but empty plate.

how strange my life should end one day.  the final scene must play.
i take each breath for granted and don't cherish every day.

so... "happy birthday to myself!
i’m fifty-two anon !
what happened to my days of youth!?  i missed them.  now they're gone!

The surf provides lullabies
as ocean echoes roll.
Too soon, the sunlight glitters
as the dawn turns gray to gold.

I wake and I rub my eyes
beside the sandy beach
My love beside me, languid lips
within an easy reach.

I whisper, sweet good mornings
as your dreams I brush away.
You stretch and yawn, responding to
requests to "come and play".

Lingered memories caress,
of last night's rising moon
with silver waves and ripples,
beyond the dark lagoon.

In shades of colors that mix and smudge
you take your time, no rush
My ******* tingle, at the thought
upon my skin, spreads flush.

In reverie, flutters reminisce,
your wanton body on mine.
Whispered moans in my ear, you ******,
"I'm yours", I hear on rewind.

Shall I speak of autumn leaves while summer doldrums reign?
Wistfully, I wait for frost to paint my window pane.

Dare I yet imagine smoke from chimneys wafting forth?
Can you taste the chilling breeze that lingers from the north?

There is no time like autumn, when relief from summer's sway
Gives rise to fireside interludes and sweet rolls in the hay.

There is no chill like autumn's air
to brace a poet's soul.
The thought of chocolate on the stove
speeds up the evening stroll.

My dog must stop to sniff the air
and savor scents afoot.
While I must simply watch my step
and where each one is put.

The signs of Halloween abound
for "Tricks or Treats" is near.
How wonderful to take a walk.
I love this time of year!

What would I give for a nook and a book
to cuddle and snuggle and longingly look
the pages unfolding as I listened to
the babbling song of a fast flowing brook.

Oh, if it had pictures, a faraway place,
mysterious villains, a dark alley chase
I’d pick up the phone I’d call in sick
disappear in the mist, leaving no trace.

What would I do to be captured by words
impressed into service by pirates with swords,
adrift without wind, current silently slow
half crazed crew pacing the sun-baked dried boards.

Perhaps of an evening a stroll on the beach
salt, surf, and moonlight on ebony skin
passion full sated on cooling soft sand
last dream of the shanghaied seagoing men.

What would I give for a storybook nook
I’d offer it all the time that it took
to take me away to wherever it would
leave me enraptured by a murmuring brook.