song of life that is mine.
Yet, a rhythm is striking like lightening
in a storm, combining with my interior
harmony and composing melodies attuned to
my frozen, broken heart.
Taking care not to drop or mishandle it,
lest it be crushed into millions of pieces
by my sharpened tears of sorrow.
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Slowly sweeping my mind, stirring up treasures forgotten for a while, picking up, and examining them with a gentle touch, a quiet vision.
Living in a world of my own, enjoying the sights I see.Catapulting joyfully into sounds of beauty as they are traced by my photographic mind and placed in lines of sense.
Fortune-telling memories stick with you through the years, holding hands, keeping them in activities of beautiful scenery and locating finery in ghettos of town.
Singing happily in tune, exercising vocal chords with a clarity and sense of well-being.
Leaving everyone in dimly lit rooms, holding onto their dreams of long ago.
Forgetting that it is the responsibility inherent in each of us.
Expressly concerned fortitude rips open the side of compassion, spilling the lifeblood of utterly human endeavors.
by the wind; sent hell-bent into depths of unreprieveableessence, lying on hard cold cement.All joy and happiness gone, their echoes lying lifeless in the noonday sun.
Strangely, keeping beats and tempos with a froggy sort of voice,
Easily taking my heart and mind down memory lane, picturingyesterday’s visions in beautiful sounding melodies, taking overand singly giving a memory settled in timeless energy ofanother phase of maturity.Alone, in senior living itself, giving pleasure in harmonies of expression.
Living in measures of musical poetry,
Alleviating the stress always pressing me fromother people’s opinions.Beaming the passion I have interiorly, sendingit into the atmosphere of my inner environment,taking all mathematical formulas and infringingupon them.Counting down the minutes of existence in tell-tale poems, leaving all of life in it’s depthsand walking off into another length of rhythm.