Don't Move!

“Lori,” I said, “Don’t move!

I’m still worshiping your face.”

She passed almost 20 years ago,

No one since could take her place.

The “Snow Fire” was my favorite rose,

Until it succumbed to a disease…

First the blossoms withered,

Then eventually the leaves.

Then there were the special dogs,

My companions and best friends…

Who one by one grew old and died,

The cycle never ends.

Everyday I’ve gathered thoughts,

Those memories like favorite books.

A person can’t own anything,

Including their good looks.

Syncronicity

Those aging, face one of two fates:

The body before the mind…

Or the mind before the body,

Forever scrambling time.

A select few get both at once,

Skin ravaged by time’s mayhem…

I have photos of the evidence,

Almost forgetting how to post them.

Mr. Sycamore

Years ago, I watched a film,

Titled “Mr. Sycamore”;

Stranger than any movie

I had ever seen before.

Unhappy with his life he dug,

A hole in his front lawn.

He jumped in, pulling down the dirt,

By morning he was gone.

He was resurrected with new life,

Where he had lived before,

Sprouting from the hole he dug,

As a beautiful Sycamore. 

Decades later, I see the genius,

Coming back as a towering tree…

He managed to pull off dying,

At home, without having to leave.