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On Time . . .

Time has its absolute control:

nothing can be done to halt or to grow –

and yet as I age I swear time has sped up: 43 more words


Winding down.

A poem in three parts, for x. ~

The wind is wailing today.

If I could I would ignore

as it slices through me, 51 more words


Remember, you.

Remember when you were young,

and singing a song or whirling to dance

made you so happy?

You ran on the beach,

stretched your arms to the sky… 160 more words


Crazy little place called Love . . .

Love is where Alone goes when

it gathers its optimism,

feels buoyant again –

able to try, to give, to compromise,

put perfection aside… 40 more words


Love notes . . .

Don’t give anyone your all.

It may be taken,

hoarded rather than requited,

your happy giving self consumed,

hollowed out or whittled away.

You, giver, so easily… 65 more words


The assumption.

Of all places, of all times, a dark empty coffee shop on a sunny day, her birthday, and he asked her, totally circumventing her armor, decades-old and polished, heretofore effective:  beautiful smile, friendly and serene demeanor, sincerely interested and upbeat and honestly joyful, well-dressed somewhere between trendy and polished with a hint of edge. 283 more words


Home again.

Welcoming the new in town

as is kind and customary,

she told me that they plan to leave

as soon as her husband has… 94 more words