Each dawn they arrive
Pudgy bodied with
soft gray feathers

Sitting on a branch
Making their own
unique sound

It is the kind of music
which is sweetest to
be heard

A melody of sadness
Echoing in time
Reminding me of
loves who are no
longer here

The tiny bird lay motionless on the ground
Its wing appeared to be broken.
The Mother bird hovered above rubbing
her beak and head against her baby.
I stood back, watching, not quite knowing
what to do.
I gathered a small box and filled it with grass.
It was my intent to try and rescue the baby.
Just when I started to get close, the little bird
began to move and hopped upon its Mother's
back and off they flew to the nest she had built

The old car sat
rusting under
some tall oak trees

The Chevrolet emblem
could still be seen
across the front

It had to be at least
50 years since
it was on the highway

Ghost riders appeared
on autumn nights
and took this baby for a spin

Children in the neighborhood
testified to that

A pretty lady with
her kerchief blowing
in the wind was often
the driver

She liked to push the
gas pedal to the floor
and race past the
other cars on the road

Sometimes a thin man
in a business suit
would get behind
the wheel and
off to his office
he would go

The Chevy must have
been brand new
back then and something
to see
Shiny hub caps
and white wall tires
Plus fins in the back
to add class and
help with aerodynamics

But now she sat
slowly rotting
only moving in
the imagination of
some 10 year olds

The day you left
My world ended
Or so I thought
At the time
Many tears were
Shed and months
Of loneliness went by
I resorted to taking
Anti depressants and
Drinking too much wine
Then one day I looked
In the mirror and that was
My wake up call
The face looking back
Was no longer someone
I knew
From then on I began
To learn how to be on
My own again
What was once my tragedy
Became a blessing
With new worlds opening
As I started to heal
I went places alone and
Liked my own company
I read books and wrote
Bad poetry, laughing at
The rhyme
I gave up the pills and
The *****
Joined a recovery group
And Frank their coffee
I met someone who was better
Than a lover
A person I could call friend
Most of all, I came to see
That in every dark corner
There is a splinter of light
And hope can grow if only
We plant the seed

Morning creeps in with
a ghostly glow
Dark corners are erased

The sun is slowly rising
on a sleepy city

Lights pop on in windows
and silhouettes can be seen

There is a lady pouring coffee
and a man lighting a cigarette

The sour smell of garbage
is in the air and a newspaper
is thrown on someone's
front lawn

Soon the sidewalks will
be teeming as a heard of
weary commuters make
their way to work

The smell was getting stronger as I walked.
It permeated the air.
Rancid.
Rotten.
Like feces, only worse!
Could it be a dead animal?
Garbage someone threw?
I tried to look for the cause of such an odor
but found none.
By the time I had reached my destination,
my nostrils were full of the stench.
It made my stomach turn.
determined to discover what it could be,
I sat on my steps and looked at the bottom
of my foot.
And there it was!
A squishy lump of dog ****
plastered to my shoe!

The girl walked gingerly along
the rocky shore
Her feet were bare and she wasn't
used to going without shoes

The small shells and pebbles poked
into her skin and made her dance
along the sandy beach

She was heading toward the waters
edge and felt ready to take the plunge
The salty air was invigorating yet the
waves coming in were quite cold

So she tip toed in
wading up to her knees
She was just getting used to the
feel of the water

When a giant wave came
out of nowhere and knocked
her over

Now, engulfed
she began to swim and
the ocean became her friend

Her fear rose in her throat
and choked her

It took all of her might
not to retch

she had never heard such
awful words and they were
meant for her

She started to cry
then put her hands together
in prayer

She was safe she told herself
and she would get through

I dread the thought of
sleep when pain creeps
between my sheets and
causes me to writhe

The scar is there as a
reminder of the day
the knife did cut

I long for sunny days
where I can bask in
the healing rays

I want to be whole
again and free to
wander about

The train whistle let out its low moan
as it passed by the old house
It was a cargo freight carrying goods
across the land

The small boy inside sat still and
listened
He loved the sound and dreamed
about where the trains were going
How he wished he could be on
one of them

His life here was so dull
and he longed for some adventure
Oh, to ride the cars to San Francisco
where his uncle lived or someplace
like Alaska with its mountains covered
in snow

He could see himself helping to unload
cargo and then drinking hot coffee
with the workmen on the train
He had a birthday coming up
That would make him Ten years old
Big enough to do as he pleased
he thought
Then he would tell his Mother he
was going
That he was born to ride the rails

She filled the room
with an exotic grace

Jet black hair
styled in a Bob
and almond shaped
eyes

Her movements were
flowing as she glided
across the stage

The spotlights glowed
on an oval face

How the cameras loved
to follow her every
gesture

More than a star
She became a legend
of the cinema