One of the worst
Parts of growing old
Is realizing the whys
Why this not that
Why where and when
And what and who
Things that roll forward
And then back slowly
Like the surf exposing
The shells of memory
Today
Sweeping the sleep away
Like mittens brush snowflakes
From windows and coffee
Snaps minds open like
Oopsied fabric shades the
Lazy morning starts startled
Cold water like cymbals
Crash onto warm skin
Causing nasty naked jumps
Before hot slowly follows
Petulant children in tow
These are the first
Fifteen minutes of today
MmmmOrrrning
And like a piano
Solo melody the high
Notes seem to tease
The lumbering lows that
Like children at recess
Whistles of the highs
Like completely boiled kettles
Scream as thumpity gurgle
Of percolating coffee lulls
The s-s-s-izzling of bacon
And the shish-shish scraping
Of buttered knife edges
Back country snow skis
Slowly open your eyes
Like one lazy wink
Of Pandora the cat
And this is morning
In our little home
LettingGo
It is often said
The more you mourn
The longer they stay
Moored to this earth
By the weight of
Your sorrow unchain their
Pain and attach balloons
Of joy and happiness
Letting them float away
As high as the
Sky and well beyond
BusStop
Sitting here and crying
Not really truly knowing
Wondering why thinking how
If leaving was easier
Than staying if ever
Between then and now
They asked what if
Is there such a
Thing as choice then
Or do we all
Just ride the same
Bus to the end
Of the same line
