Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Stephen E Yocum Jan 2023
I stumbled blindly into marriage
twice, but thankfully soon thereafter
I fully regained my sight and reason.
Repeating one's mistakes twice
and expecting a different result
is indeed foolish thinking.
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2022
The dog firmly placed his chin upon the old
man's knee, stirring him from sleep in his chair.
The only light in the room coming from the
television screen. The dog's gentle message
being, "Time we go to bed" dear friend.
A ritual event occurring more often now
and most likely tomorrow night again.

As the man slowly stood the dog pranced towards
the door, to go outside and do his required business.
The man also to the bathroom did retire, brushing of
teeth and to attend to his own urgent business.

Six years of twenty-four seven companionship had
bonded them forever, each knowing the other as
only best friends or family can, both fully habituated
to the other's needs and routines.

In the bedroom the dog sat upon his own bed, close by
to the man's bed, patiently waiting as he always did.
The man leaned down and took the dog's face and
head into his hands, forehead to forehead they paused
while silent endearing messages were, like every night,
conveyed and mutually affectionately received. Loving
friendship as real as any can be.

The man climbed aboard his own bed, donning his CPAP
mask like a pilot before takeoff and arranged himself
in his fully-automatic-adjustable bed, then clapped his
hands twice to extinguish the lamp on the bedside table.

"Good night, buddy, we'll have some more fun in the
morning." the man murmured, closing his eyes to sleep.
While his friend also laid down, curled into a ball and
released a contented sigh, as they both did every night.

Another day ended as most now do, as will, all their
remaining shared tomorrows.
Written four years ago, my irreplaceable Boxer dog Tucker
passed away two months ago, I do so miss his companionship.
I have lost too many loved canine friends, I will not be getting
another. Too hard to endure the loss. Too old to start again.
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2022
Loving people is complicated
and a lot of work! At some point
we just want to retire.
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2022
The chill morning brought a first of winter  
snow fall, accumulating upon the branches
of our naked Birches, and stalwart towering
evergreen Spruce trees, coating each in
alabaster, like powdered sugar frosting on
holiday pastries, lovely winter décorations
of the season, compliments of mother nature.

Gone two hours later, missed already.
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2022
What has it been, over four years
since we lay naked in each other's
arms, breathing each other's breath,
enfolded entwined clinging skin to
skin upon damp bedsheets, with
the scent of your evocative perfume
and our spent passions strong in
the air of that room, lit only by two
flickering candles on a bedside table.
It is your touch and caress even more
than the *** that is remembered and
missed.

Two grandparents, friends and lovers
in their twilight years, one last night
that shall never come again, relegated
to sweet fading memories and shadows
on their own 600 mile far distant bedroom
walls, and a phone call now and then.
When I was young, I never imagined
that old people still made love, that
perhaps my own grandparents felt
and yet shared their mutual passions.
I was then of course quite naive and
mistaken.
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2022
Like my life, all my kitchen crockery
is used, worn and chipped,
Maybe I could buy replacements,
but sadly, they do not make them
like that anymore. Or me either.

Aging and time are unavoidable.
Sure, new dishes I can buy, but can
anyone sell me another 25 or 30 years
of healthy life? Now wouldn't that be
great! Let see I'm 77, 30 more years
would be 107. Naw, that may be a bit
greedy. I'll just plug along with the
wear and tear as it comes naturally.
One day at a time. Grinning all the way.
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2022
My first impressions were mind expanding,
filled with crushing throngs of busy people
all moving, their clamor and noise unrelenting.
The enduring, evocative scents and smells of
a culture thousands of years old and thriving.

The wide mud brown life's blood Ganges
River flowing through the heart of the city,
filled with wooden crafts of all descriptions,
people on the banks bathing, washing clothes,
living, open funeral pyres burning, life and
death laid bare for all eyes to see as it has been
since Time Immemorial.

On the street's flowers and music in abundance,
women in colorful, to drab Sari dresses denoting
their stature, along with some men in western attire
but most in sarongs and open toed sandals. While
walking the streets every few blocks the at first
shocking sight of impoverished recently deceased
bodies laid out on the sidewalks upon straw mats,
swaddled in cloth wrappings awaiting donation
offerings enough to pay for their funeral fires.

Unaccustomed to seeing Westerners the people pause
and stare as if we were from outer space visitors, if we
stopped moving, unthreateningly and wide eyed they
would surround us, perhaps unsure what they are seeing.

A mutually curious encounter, Humanity visited up
close and personal. Aw yes, I fondly remember India.
Few impressions are as vivid and lasting
as my first days in India, the colors, activity
and memories the likes of which I had never
known before or since. Of all the countries I've
had the pleasure of visiting India stands alone
in drama and excitement.
Three weeks in India 1973
Next page