Passports

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Otis and me waiting for the float plane  November, 2012

 

Otis and I flew on float-planes,

For our visits to British Columbia…

Every time the pilot said,

“I need the papers on everyone of ya”.

 

Otis and I both had Passports,

Otis’ showed proof of his vaccinations.

Mine was proof of citizenship

Needed to visit other nations.

 

Otis died years before Covid…

Yet I can just imagine his thoughts…

Laughing at me at the border,

Now proving I’ve had all my shots.

 

Otis between his excursions,

Worshiped the moon in his room.

The heavens must have loved him too,

Sadly calling him way too soon. 

 

 

 

 

Sensory Stimuli

 

Often the scent of flowers,

Mixed with the ocean air…

Brings back memories of the island.

As if I was still there.

 

Today’s dialogue of angry Crows,

Was diluted by songbirds.

Immersing myself in new surroundings,

Replaced any loss of words. 

 

My neighbors left for the weekend.

Their cat cried for food and more…

I realized life is strange at times,

Love was meowing at my door.

 

Memories are like edited dreams.

The decades demanded a heavy price...

My longings almost convinced me,

I could step in the same river twice.