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The smiles of children hosting trophies,

Ribbons and awards from the county fair.

I remember fondly my days of summer sun

And look back to what a world I had their.

Dressed in blue plaid and jeans,

Eating too much cotton candy

And spending dollars on winning cheap trinkets.

Being invincible and being young.

 

Now I look at the new faces,

Standing where we once stood.

The feelings that tomorrow was too far away,

But not realizing how quickly it would come.

The names, they are still familiar.

They are our names, but no longer ours.

For they are our children.

It had been weeks, that I admit.

But I rationalized he wouldn’t know.

The frail figure, so tiny

Wasn’t the same man I used to know.

How easy it was to say

And keep moving about my chores.

.

I went to bed that night,

Expecting all things to stay as they were.

Nothing would change

Because it hadn’t for years.

And besides, he wouldn’t know.

.

Then my son came,

He wasn’t supposed to be home.

It was a dream.

It had to be a dream.

“Grandma needs you.”

I heard the words, but sat there stunned.

 

The blur that was shrouded that which had been.

Things had changed, and I was too late.

There was not another day.

There would be no more wait ’til tomorrow.

Sometimes it just never comes.

The step is a little slower,

The glimmer that once sparkled now a little dull.

Age has stooped the figure once so proud and tall.

When he speaks, its a little more softly

And the hands, worn with worry and work

Are now crooked from the pain.

The dark hair has turned ice white

But the fierceness still burns inside.

He’s still in there somewhere,

Even if he doesn’t always recall where.

The pain is now mostly ours,

For, now, only we remember.

Without Words

The sigh heaves itself from my chest,

And I walk the other away.

Not because I am out of words.

But because I have no more to say.

The exhaustion spring forth

Resigning me to eternal damnation.

I could try to speak,

But for you, there is no explanation.

Your mind closes about the facts,

The ones so conveniently created.

No reality needs to be entertained

Just my integrity berated.

So as the pain fills my heart

I will walk away.

For I am without words,

And this is the last I’ll say.

Late Winter Grass

Verdant blades mingled with white

Promises of that yet to come.

Shrouded in the cold of ice

Yet sparking the warmest of dreams.

Waiting for rays of warmth

And fields of daffodils.

Longing for warm kisses on my cheek

And the wind across the back of my neck.

Oh little green stalk standing so bravely

Please tell me when your friends will arrive.

Sorrow

In the deepest recess

Where shadows hide,

The faded memories.

What tales are told

And reconstructed,

Tinged with sorrow.

Good-byes never said,

Nor ever wanted.

Both for living and dead.

That place that haunts us.

 

Years of My Youth

They call it a crisis, middle age

But I see no crisis, just history.

The years to go equal those past

And now, with knowledge

We know it can’t forever last.

.

There have been heartbreaks, pain

And the years have begun to etch

Permanently upon the edges of my face.

But I can still look back, with just little sadness

At the years of my youth,

When the sun filled my heart with gladness.

.

The days of the impossible

Because there was no limit to my heart.

Chasing butterflies and other creatures

Or listening to the distant lark.

Laying in the grass and having not a care.

Waiting for the night, fireflies

And the moon’s luminous glare.

.

Yes, the days of dreams and possibilities

That once colored the years of my youth.

And though those dreams still live,

Nestled deep in my heart.

I find they are a little farther away

And years have grown us apart.

.

No, my friends, I tell you true,

I am not in crisis because I have aged

Though I am sure it looks it to you.

I merely think back longingly

At all that has come to pass.

The generations I have missed

And the dreams, yes, the dreams,

That have passed by a little too fast.