When you, in life beyond it's own life,
passed in winter's waning rains,
you entered our sorrowed dreams,
several times you've gently
rapped on my door,
I quickly would open it-
yet, no one was there,
are you stepping down from
the cherished heights of
immortality's reach,
to invite us to a celestial
gathering of souls reposed,
singing in golden beams
with the angels?

Forgiveness isn't, "I'll forgive you,
if you'll forgive me,"
its a symphony of lilacs in the
springtime fields,
and a song from the wren's
delicate heart,
its when you awaken after a
bitter night of anger melted
into tiredness, and moments
of grief turned to lavender
scented pillows lulling you
into a resplendent dream,
of white doves ascending to
Heaven carrying whispers
of the world praying,
as little workers in your mind
build a bridge of steel cables
of peace forged by God,
whether there's reunion with
those you've forgiven, or not.

Oh, "Game Of Thrones", I miss it so, with all the good looking gents,
what's an aging poetess to do,
but lament,
the sight of Kit Harington's assets,
(no, not the **** acting!),
made me want to take a trip down memory lane, so I got
packing,
this gray old hen remembers
when-
teenage summer nights laying
on the sand, then-
getting quite sufficiently drunk
with delightful young men!

She rises in the Blue Ridge mist,
her Gothic presence quite tall,
spirits of the legendary Vanderbilts exist,
they whisper within the regal halls,
when humble slob me does pass-
I wish to mingle with these ghosts of high class.

The sadness overtook you Tyler,
my brother of the human realm,
unfathomable waters received
you,
my brother, once of the Earth,
its binding boundaries,
now the life of God's love eternal,
for my brother in God.

The November 25, 1963 day of the cold sun,
the noble horses,
white horses-drawn caisson,
the dignity of their somber gait,
silver shoes resounded on the
pavement,
the skittish night-black riderless
horse-
Black Jack, led down the avenue
of the people,
his symbolic rider, no longer
bound to the earthly life, it's
sorrows.

The noble horses accompanied
him on his journey to the ages,
the mystique, the dreams,
deathless,
where the ground is hallowed-
Arlington.

roofers in the rain
spared from sun
chimney swifts, gliding