It's the same enjoyment
            with the lighter baggage:
             why would you choose
            the heavier---to your disadvantage?

Older but not old
Not wasting away
Far from it and enjoy yourselves
Communities are not for everyone
Having a good time means different things to different people
Not your way or the highway
Your place and doing your own thing
Written two books and one in process
People read my poetry and are still surprised
Some bought the books
Seeing people of all ages and enjoying children
Excellent Welcomes and very Sad Farewells
Photo albums and videos help us remember
They introduce the little ones to their family
A new family member is due anytime now
Make for great stories and answers to their questions
We own our home and we worked hard for it
I still can't believe those poor young teachers did it
More to come on our journey and journeys
Still, hugging banisters and in awe of our kitchen
Maybe a second house and definitely travels.
Theatre, Photography, and attending Rock concerts
We moved in 33 years ago
Love our house
For those of you who believe you should sit on a throne with your crown
You are no better or worse than others
You might have more money but there are other riches you don't possess that others do
Kindness and Respect come to mind
My time is wasted on you
We are grateful and caring always

she disappeared into the shadows of the night,
skimming through the uproarious parties
like stone across the lake
until she sunk into
the gruesome arms
of another man
behind my sleeping back.

and there he was, pounding away
like some big dumb animal
at something I held sacred
as if bonds were meant to be broken
and boundaries were made permeable

and there she was,
taking it,
loving it,
enjoying it,
doing it to spite me
and knowing it would hurt.

and there I was, the last to know
in the dark circles of whispering
secrecy

it’s the all-too-familiar cycle
of passion and appetite;

swallowed by the underbelly of lust and
tormented by the foretaste of my presence

I can’t blame them,
I can’t blame myself,
it’s only nature
taking
its course.

and I can’t say this is written
about anyone specifically,

when it happened

far too many times.

a dog pees on a tree,
so what, that’s average.

a baby has spaghetti
around its mouth,
pfft, that’s basic.

a woman living below you
beats on the ceiling with
a broomstick and tells
you to “keep it down!”
big deal, that’s common.

pulling your member
out of your pants and
stroking it violently
with excitement,

hey, that’s just everyday living.

but, seeing you sitting there
on that park bench,
one leg crossed over the other,
with your dog
and your book
and your sunglasses
while tears of joy stream
down your face
after something you
just read

well now…

you
don’t
see
that
everyday.

the cops are at the door,
open the window,
toss me my running shoes.

out the window I went, left heaven,
down to the narrow street
into the welcomed night.

(my fair weather fade away.)

you have the prettiest eyes
the sky ever knew

so please don't be surprised
to find me one day at your window

some cold december night
holding plastic flowers for you

so love the thief who tried steal your heart,
and plastic flowers never fade.

I'm just a sparrow
longing for sky
and if I had wings
I could fly.

i'm sitting in a corner,
blue as a flower,
saying a prayer.

that room

I ve written
about that room, above the bar, often.
that there were shadows,
no windows,
but I really don't remember?
window, no window?

but whenever i tried to look up
there was the angry sky
chasing hope around narrow streets          

and those bits and ripples
of rain long asleep

casting shadows across
windows distant,
down my window pane.

do you ever think of me?

(written while sitting in a dark room
starring into a rain splashed window).

Everyone knows that roses have thorns
But must there be thorns on my daisies too?
Looking for beauty my fingers find pain.

Not every path needs to be level and smooth
But why must mine always be broken and steep
And why is the Sun forbidden to shine.

Where are the birds God promised to send.
Their music is healing and I am in need
But the treetops are empty  - I hear only pain

I once saw a rainbow where one didn’t belong
And took from it hope that all would be well
The last of that hope still supports me today.
ljm