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Riding the train, holding the rail,
Waiting for my next stop, and future trail.

As most of this journey, traveling all alone,
No past life baggage, looking for, or following me,
As morning & nights pass, where will my next stop be.

Mom left for heaven, six months ago, with her earthly log,
My only family connection, and responsibility now,
Taking care of Ginger, her old yellow lab dog.

As I look down the tracks,
I thought I felt, A drop of rain from the sky,
It will always be tough the rest of my life,
To keep tears, from falling, out of my eyes.


Tom Maxwell copyright 3/2/2019 AD  11:00 AM
My soul, adventuring,
In this period of life,
A different shell, last time,
So far, an endless flight.

My imitate family,
Have journeyed forward,
I learned, miss them much,
Be positive, for the reason.

My work, this era of time,
Advise help, and care
Separate, grief, moments,
Write, leave messages,
Discover, myself.      

Tom Maxwell ©  2/17/19 AD  11:35 AM
My soul, adventuring,
In this period of life,
A different shell, last time,
So far, an endless flight.

My imitate family,
Have journeyed forward,
I learned, miss them much,
Be positive, for the reason.

My work, this era of time,
Advise help, and care
Separate, grief, moments,
Write, leave messages,
Discover, myself.

                                                                          Tom Maxwell ©  2/17/19 AD  11:35 AM
The winter cold, has come our way,
Everything is covered with snow, on this sunny day.
Squirrels raiding the bird feeders, to ease the hunger
In their mind, as the birds circle, above,
Waiting for their feeding time.
Some resting, on the branches, of trees,
That the fallen leaves, have left bare,
Such A peaceful, beautiful site, as I,
Look out my window and stare.



                                                                     Tom Maxwell ©  12/19/2005
Our bodies, as we know them now,
One day will be all alone,
Burnt to ashes, or buried, inside A coffin,
Six feet under A stone.
A known fact, most of us will never know,
In advance, how we will leave this life,
We are passing through today,
Why, so much hate, and anger,
Which is mainly supported by greed,
While knowing this life, A very short stay.
As humans, we act, talk, as the most
knowledgeable, creatures, alive today,
In reality, we have learned, from others
Almost everything, we do or say.
How we eat, dress, who we accept,
or disagree with, how we share,
or be selfish, we teach, leave behind,
As we help shape the next creatures,
After our very short stay.


                                               Tom Maxwell © 01/30/2021 AD 12:00 PM
As the white translucent ice crystals, fall from the sky,
their shapes, and beauty, always seem to put A gleam, in our eyes.

They fall through the air, as they float to the ground, always,
so peaceful, until the wind blows them around.

Flakes of frozen water vapor, such A natural thing,
we all have special memories, of the excitement, they bring,

Each flake is different, in their own special way,
just like the people we pass by in our life, everyday,

There is more than the beauty, we see with our eyes,
everyone is enlightened, even strangers, have time, to say hi.

The snow, can slow down, our daily pace, the magic it spreads,
brings us closer together, in this world of race.


                                                   Maxwell copyright  12/27/2002
God created this beautiful planet,
Which renews, all of our survival needs,
He also created all of us equal,
Everyone sharing, loving caring,
Was the idea of the original plan, for us to see,
Then humans created money,
Which is talked about, worshiped,
More than God today,
Greed for the money, is what causes,
Separation, pain, around the world,
In every corner, of all the land,
It's time we reverse, to the original plan.
A beautiful blue bird,
Landed so softly on the redwood,
Back deck rail,
A grayish body, with black, white, and blue markings,
From its head to the tail.
A very strong tough bird to survive,
The changing weather, and environment,
Even though they look so frail.
A background of nature, all a dark green, as far as I can see,
As I look out my window, to the west,
Across the old pond,
There are a few brown branches,
On a dying ash tree.

                                                                                                                               Tom Maxwell ©
                                                                                                                              5/26/20 AD
                                                                                                                             7:00 PM
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