These poems are for posterity (because mind-loss runs in the family.)
I dedicate all this poetry to my progeny, but most importantly,
to the one and only Future Me.
That old guy who's worn out and world-weary.
The one who's losing his memories,
and can't keep track of what he thinks.

These are all for you.

I'll record the lowest lows and highest highs.
Presented for the perusal of his (yours, my) rheumy eyes.
I might embellish at times -
I might even lie.
I just want to be able to look back and realize:
It's been an incredible life.

That's the thing about time,
it doesn't stop for anyone.
No matter how much you beg
the hands, they just keep ticking.

ice skating is like loving
you hold on to the edge, afraid to fall, get yourself hurt and let go
but eventually you will have to let go and learn how to glide freely on your own
sure you will fall on your **** and you will get hurt
but that's how you'll learn
and thats how you become strong
by picking yourself up and moving forward

- MMM