This isn’t my neighborhood anymore; This isn’t the place where I start each day – Habitual turn to come up this street I lost awhile back when we moved away But we raised our kids in a house back there, And what seemed important then now seems small: The hopes that we had, and the … Continue reading "This Isn’t My Neighborhood Anymore"
This place is home because it’s “us” Now we can be us, because we’re home © Irinamahova | Dreamstime.com – Home Photo
.. there's a story in how they're looking ...
I was the young one, They were the giants; Laughing across dinner tables, Looking down at me through Glowing wrinkled faces; I was a marvel to them, they said, And I believed them, All my superpowers on display, As off I went on still Another adventure. Now I am The old one, Looking out at … Continue reading "Giants"
I’m sitting in a waiting room And choose to write this verse; The snow is blowing hard outside The wind keeps getting worse — Winter once was magical With castles made of snow; But now the world is blank, and I Can’t see which way to go — The wait is over, and my child … Continue reading "Waiting Room"
“I’m sorry,” – I heard that, But then the rest was hard to hear – “I should have told you months ago,” – And my mind raced with fear “Bye,” her sad voice said, And then the voicemail ended there To leave me hanging on And questioning exactly where My stepdaughter was now, And what … Continue reading "Wayward"
I tried to dance, And hoped that you would notice me; I tried to sing, But you had left the room Tried to excel, And hoped you would approve of me – I learned some tricks You never stopped to view I wanted you to see me and To like me; To talk to you, … Continue reading "I Tried To Dance"
[This picture is actually my mom in 1955. – Owen] I do not know which is further The seventeen hundred miles to see my mom Or the sixty years since this photo was taken Each needs the aid of human technology to be crossed: Plane rides today, for my wife and me Or this photo, … Continue reading "To See My Mom"
I drive here as I drove long years ago When my old father chatted by my side; He spoke of hist’ry, mining and the flow Of his thoughts, ever brimming long and wide. But now I ride alone in silent thought. My father loved this land, and understood That life is cruel, and time is … Continue reading "Arizona"