Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion

Remember goodness in the fire of e… Remember joy in the center of sorr… Remember love in the flood of hate… Remember courage in the pit of fea… It’s never too late.

I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there

When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old

Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

In the still night In the silence, My soul begs, My mind to rest. It’s story told

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

Red cardinal dancing On white snow, How regal you appear With your cloak of red, How it cheers my heart

In the blink of an eye It’s a different scene On the big movie screen So easy to get absorbed In the story line of time.

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos