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Hello old friend.
It’s been so long.
You look good.
How have you been?
Your family? Sister? Brother?
You look so good.
Your voice sounds so lovely.
It’s lower than I remember,
and your face,
though still handsome as I remember,
your face is longer
than I remember.
It’s only been a few short years but,
you seem older.
I know that sounds redundant.
Has corporate life gotten the best of you?
I love you too dear friend.
Your skin used to be so golden.
Go outside more.
Remember the countless hours we spent on the lake?
I do. You glowed then.
Where have you been?
I’ve missed our talks,
our time spent simply being young.
We were so young. Do you remember?
I’m still so young.
Responsibility has made you forget.
Have another beer!
It will help you remember.
My dear friend, you look so good but
I’m afraid you’re not.
What are you hiding behind those eyes?
I can hardly hold your stare.
Smile for me. Let me know that you’re good.
You don’t seem as happy as I remember.
My dear friend, what happened to your light?
Where has it gone?
Where have you gone?
Come back to me.
Come back to you.
I haven't written anything in almost a year. I lost something in me, but I saw someone last night who once meant so much to me. I don't know how to help them, but hopefully this does. Somehow.
There's this thing you do when I'm sad.

It can turn a winter storm into a summer rain.
Thanks for the love. Comments and criticism are always welcome and appreciated.
There is nothing like the feeling I get when you look me in the eye through a crowded room.
Does your heart flutter like mine?
Thanks for the love. Comments and criticism are always welcome.
That's the thing,
we did it to be free.
We wanted to be liberated,
to not have to take no
for an answer.
We did it
so that we could taste the fruit
without fear.
It was easy.

I can show you.

Others may think it wrong,
but to us they were movers and
The precedents setting standards.
And we wanted to be like them.
We did it for the Innocent and the ******.
We did it for the young and dying.
We did it for the ones who think they're king
and for the rebellion.
We did it in honor of the sinners and the righteous ones.

I did it for you and me.

So call us guilty and we'll face judgment,
but that's why we did it.
We just wanted to be free.
Thank you for the love. Comments and criticism are always welcome and wanted.
The clock in my ear
is a constant reminder
of the dying fire
that is this life.

With time comes age.
Flames turn young wood
into embers and ash.

When time runs out
what will be left of my fire?
Will it leave a burning trail
or will the trail burn me?
Thanks for the love. Comments and criticism are always welcome.
Photographs of my family hang on the wall.
Some I know.
Some would recognize me.
Others I know only from the stories
that immortalize them.

There is a family portrait in the hall
it tells tales that great legends envy.
For the stories left by these faces
will never be forgotten,
retold at bedtime for generations
to come.

The portrait speaks of a time
before cancer and old age.
Back when Linda and Debbie ran the house
and Jorge still went by Georgie.
Kathy was falling in love with dirt bikes,
Joey had to take Jimmy everywhere
and Nena made everyone save food
for when Silvia got home from school.
All the while Papo sipped his scotch
and watched his legacy leave their footprint
in the sand.

Truth is I’ve always known
he’d live forever.
Long before he began his walk home
Papo was already immortalized
in our memories and spirits.

Now that you rest
I find comfort knowing that I
carry your story with me,
and have the honor of calling you
For us, you will always be
the legendary
Vincent Joseph Schement.
I wrote this for my grandfather who passed away last week. I read it at his viewing and put the hand written original copy in his coffin. The people mentioned in the poem are my aunts, uncles, dad and grandparents. My grandfather was in the army during WWII and loved to read poetry. He was 94 when he passed away of old age a little over a year after his youngest child passed of cancer. Sleep well Papo.
Bye bye Mr. Blueberry pie
Checked the fridge for some milk
But the milk jug was dry.
The tears welled up
And I wanted to cry.
"Back into the fridge," I sighed.
"Back into the fridge," I sighed.
My sister and I wrote this. Thanks for the love. Comments and criticism are always welcome.
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