Words
cut from the whole cloth
of everyday life
stitched together
with precision
into art
Words
cut from the whole cloth
of everyday life
stitched together
with precision
into art
Variety vs. Time © 2017
The problem with me you see
Is that I like variety
I can not stay in one place too long
The sun is now setting
Excuse me for forgetting
This may be the last sunset in my song
Life’s music so sweet
My family almost complete Writing another memoir in peace
The clock on the wall
sounding ticks through the hall
Out my window Flying south under the clouds are two geese
Variety, variety
A tragedy, a tragedy
How do I split myself in two
Life offers too much
Short time is my crutch
I’ll be happy for now, what else could I do?
The first Daffodil
Opens
Presents its fluted face
To morning’s sun
Still
March’s wind sends
Shivers
Through Rhododendron’s
Waxy leaves
Flipping some
Upside down
Children’s voices in the alley
Tag your it
Throw it to me
Echoes of laughter everywhere.
Come in big Barbara
Little Barbara come home
Women leaning out of windows
Echoes of mothers voices calling.
Parades down Eastern Parkway
Marching bands heard
People dancing during celebrations
Echoes of steps in unison on pavement.
My neighborhood was Crown Heights
Greetings from those walking to stores
Ebbets Field not too far from home
Echoes of crowds cheering on clear days.
My Dad’s voice singing songs
Reciting children’s rhymes
His words of encouragement always
Echoes of “I love you forever”.
Brooklyn’s echoes are with me always
Bringing smiles and laughter
Fond memories to my heart
And warmth to my soul.
Three bunnies cavorting in the play yard
Flip turns they do in air
Two woodchucks nibble nearby
Stopping now and again to look
A big crow flies in, stalks close
Enough to interrupt there dinner hour
Each chooses his favorite morsel
And goes his merry way
For sure they will all return another day.
I watch, trying not to miss a move
To spy upon their dinning
To take of note of their menu
They do not leave me a tip
For God has spread their table.
A huge graying woodchuck owns my hill. He peeks out from blackberry thorns—eyes the play yard up and down. Then, casually waddles out. His fat loose skin waving over his short legs. Spying a tender dandelion he munches its leaves until he spies others he thinks more tender—thus he proceeds up my hill stopping innumerable times to take stock of what’s around. Making sure he’s in full ownership of his territory. Should he even get a glimpse of my shadow in the window he streaks for cover.
Then guess what—I saw him yesterday sitting up under my apple tree—a small green delicious apple in his two front paws. Nibbling away. It must not have been tasty because he did not eat much. Off he ran to his woodchuck hole. Me being very curious went out to check his tooth marks in the apple. Hope he doesn’t get a tummy ache-I surely would.
My gait has changed
My hair has too
Sometimes I find it hard to chew
I do not know the things I knew
but I can add a thing or two
I’m still a loving friend to you!
Candies pocketed,
old chocolates melted flat,
now like dry mud scales,
the sweetness cold and gone.
Does the thrill of remembrance
satisfy like creamy satiation,
or disappear in the tasting,
deflated by swift gluttony?
Oh, have just one old piece.
Reawaken the craving in you,
Yearn and satiate fully clear.
Surprise! Taste again.
Under the guise of searching,
a soul shatters,
a mind maneuvers.
It appears self-seeking, but it’s seeking self.
I’m sorry never illuminates
the path to feel whole.
Love, you are enough
to quell the rifling.
A flair of paucity halts the course,
doubling secrets under slipshod lips,
shrouding the truth from desperate eyes.
Life plods on,
and with the empty ache ostensibly filled,
the helm is released.
My life shattered into a million pieces, the day you died.
Like a brand new puzzle you dumped on the kitchen table; pieces everywhere.
Have you ever tried putting a puzzle together with gloves on? Blindfolded?
As the months would pass, I would start to have clusters of pieces connected.
Almost able to see my life again.
My life with you still in it.
My life before you took your last breath.
CRASH. BAM. BOOM.
A holiday.
A birthday.
A random Tuesday.
The days I missed you a little extra.
My little clusters would shatter again.
I was no longer able to see my old life again.
The puzzle pieces were scattered on the table.
How do I get back to my old life?
Can I?
I was trying to piece together something that will never be the same.
I will always be missing one piece to my puzzle; to my life.
You.
I must take those millions of pieces and start something new.
The gloves come off.
The blindfold is lifted.
I needed to start living my life without you.
We will not be creating memories.
You are now a memory.
My life looks different now.
I put the puzzle back in the box and open a new one.
The pieces are cut the same way.
They fit together the same way.
The clusters start to connect.
This isn’t the puzzle I wanted to put together.
But this is my life now.
This puzzle is for you to see.
To be proud of.
RIP Dad. Forever missed.