Thursday, April 23, 2015
Pierced with the silver needle,
That blinded my father’s eye,
My own eyesight recovered;
The World did not die…
Sailboats shadowed by mountains,
Are powered by the same breeze,
Chilling the restless autumn air,
As the evenings condemn the leaves…
Daylight falls behind the mountains,
The sailboats make it to shore,
Behind me, the sun rises,
A new day again, once more...
Sunday, April 12, 2015
The rich used sterling salt spoons,
Over Bone China dinner plates;
Dressed in their formal attire,
Snorting fine whites on formal dates.
We wore tee shirts and old Levis,
Used coupons for discount dining rates…
Preferring picnics at the beach,
With plastic forks and paper plates.
We celebrated the grand opening,
Of each Franzia wine in a box…
Unlike the rich, we flourished,
Drunk, while the rich detoxed.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
I’m missing all those careless days,
The whiskey and cigarette smoke…
The barbequed ribs and potatoes;
Life’s ironies and the ribald joke.
Cross country trips, sans seat-belts,
Long baths near electrical plugs,
We drank in downtown Stockton,
Unafraid of homeless thugs.
We sped in cars on foggy highways,
Living comfortably with no fears…
Every minute an adventure;
We thought we had one hundred years.