I manage to walk a few miles every 2 or 3 days
in a failing effort to loosen the muscles
and ease the soreness of bad knees and a dissolving spine
we no longer discuss when it will happen
but rather when did it happen
exactly what day did the line go straight and then turn downward
ever so slightly
there is some comfort in having friends with the same affliction

I am pulled back to the Ocean
drawn like an addict to the smell
every group of gulls
riding the shoreline
every hour slowed

I feel energy there
as the Sun lowers
as the children and fisherman return home
as the whispers of those gone before me
are carried by the ocean breeze

a quiet man he was
the smiles were rare
signs of affection
non-existent
yet his soul came through
his goodness
his quality
his concealed intelligence
I can see him in his sleeveless tee-shirt
cigarette in right hand
a pen in his left
doing the New York Times crossword puzzle
at the dining room table
he would watch Jeopardy
and reel off the answers
one after another
under his breath
he'd survived 3 heart attacks
diabetes and emphysema
years of working 2 jobs to support 8 children
but the alzheimers was unforgiving
and eventually wore him down
my Father
like his son
had buried a facet of his early years
his gift for verse
which I discovered unbeknownst to him
before his passing
in the early hours of one recent Winter's morning
I heard him call my name from the foot of the bed
I take it as a sign that one day
we will share our love of poetry

the shadow knows my every move
he writes my dreams
as if to prove
his dominance

he's in my head
like a vagrant thought
a spider in my own web
I am caught

he's closer now
I sense the space
is measured in days
before he takes my place