I strolled, awhile, down by that bog
Through thick, astringent, swirling fog....
Perchance, perhaps, in circumstance
I fancied that the reeds did dance,
Swayed in time to pulsing beat
Expanding in round ripples, neat,
To radiate across the pond
In league with moss of ferny frond.
Causing spider webs to sway
Through which the dewdrops came to play
In iridescent beams of light
Illuminating shards of night
Which cast a most unearthly glow
That only frogs in bogs, would know.....
And know they did from ancient time
Where bullfrogs ruled in slippery slime
When incandescence filled the glade
Whilst time stood still and mayflies played.

Dancing in the fantasy of Patty's Pond.
With love M.

The love of my life has passed. I am devastated and ripped. My life seems ended.

To my baby, if only I had one more day.

Even just an hour , I could go on.

DiAnne, my soul mate, i need you more than any breath or water.

I shall remember you and keep you close in my heart as I always did.

We are poor creatures
slimy organs imprisoned in flesh.
The sun burns us, water drowns us
our lives are rough and short,
we’re little more than talking dust.

We all howl with angry doubts.

Our art may dry and chip
our science could let us down,
our poets stammer and grow quiet.

Humanity has always been imperfect,
but some of us are trying. We see the stars,
we know passion, we sing and dance
and are indomitable - join us-
because the best is yet to come

How has the inevitable
Changes in the atmosphere
Affected you, my dear?
Did you watch in frozen fear
As the loud mortars crashed so near
Or think insanity has won the day,  give up the fight and fade away?
Or has the barometer of your opinion
became a beacon for touching time
Like sages of another rhyme when,
Known became a wing of air,
A tree limb on a barren oak,
A slowly cascading mountain peak, the haze of foggy bitter tears?
There once came by the now dry creek
A beauty lass with a smiling cheek
A breath of fresh a curl of new a hope to all who viewed her innocence
rare for years we thought her there.
But that must have been a smile thought just a scent of remembrance there one called her name in somnolence, and it echoes still,
her  name was whispered meaningful,
A heart, a tear,
A sentiment