apples lost
to early rot
first blush of red
on mottled skin
a sallow death
sure as sin

crow of night
crowns the branch
boldly pecks
a hole so wide
plucks the worm
from inside

She's raised high
On the podium;
Pool water drips
With sodium;
She clearly sees
From lofty height,
Her training
And her sacrifice.
Our shining Penny
We behold,
Won Bronze, then Silver,
And now struck Gold.

Look to the moon of August
From any place or time;
Write a little poesy,
Name it in a rhyme.
You can call it Sturgeon,
Red, Green Corn or Grain;
No matter what your outlook,
It still looks the same.
You can call it Dog Days,
Fruit, Dispute or Lightening,
And calling it a Woman's Moon
Gives rise to all that's ripening.

Do I love you??
Why are you asking me this??
Do I love you??
I love the things you say.
I love the things you do.
But do I love you??
Sometimes I think I do.
Sometimes I tell myself
To just accept my love for you,
To give myself permission to fall deeply in love.
To allow myself happiness for a change,
And to sink into something beautiful.
Yet other times, I find myself thinking
That perhaps I am just lonely.
Perhaps I just miss you.
Perhaps it is just nice to have someone to talk to.
Perhaps it is the fact
That every time we speak
It is three in the morning,
And deny it all you want,
But you know **** well that that makes a difference.
Perhaps I just love the nostalgia from when we were kids.
I do love it.
I love the memories.
I love those years.
I love the feelings they left behind.
But do I love you??
Do I love you??
Oh darling.
Ask me no questions,
And I tell you no lies.

The bottle was full
Just like their spirits
They shared as the talk grew louder
Spoke of times when drinking was sociable
That was a time ago
Now the drink was a necessity
The medicine of life
The bottle was beginning to empty now
Just like the existence they led
You could see it in their faces
As the battle for the last drink intensified
Every battle has a winner
This time he was the stronger
Gulping down the last drop as if his life depended on it
There would be many more battles like this
Ultimately, the main battle lay ahead
The final one
The freezing weather moved in slowly
Though he was totally unaware
Lying in a drunken stupor
Surrounded by empty bottles
Screaming as the battle raged inside him
Fighting for the final time
As his life slowly ebbed away
The snow covered him like a blanket
Peacefully taking him to a new place
The battle over
His thirty five year old existence finally at an end.