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I'm in the room.
You're there too.
I won't talk
unless you do.
There's no reason,
that is true.
Conversations, no kiss
except "what day is this?"
The TV listings
are her guide.
Lord, I don't know
what's now inside,
That beautiful mind
you always had,
Much smarter than me.
The loss of memory,
You're going through,
I can't imagine
what I would do.

There will be a tomorrow,
that is most certain.
In spite of all the sorrow,
there won't be a final curtain.
That curtain of black cloth,
blocking the morning Sun.
Searching the broad horizon,
looking for our life's fun.
"Is it me?", she said one day.
"I'm sure I'm not the only one,
or can I be sure and say,
my life has now begun?"

Over

Posted by MFishView Profile Posted on 01/07/2020 at 12:21PM Other See more by MFish

I knew it was over
as I entered the room,
for I was overcome
with thoughts of gloom.
Why had this meeting,
with my direct boss
giving me a feeling;
one of great loss.
Our small company was renowned
for its technology making ultrasound
equipment using a Sonar technique,
Allowing Real Time imaging of the heart,
was so highly unique.
It was purchased by a large
pharmaceutical company.
Now the "bean counters" were
trimming the staff very heavily.
My boss told me this story
"The company no longer needed me"
letting you know of your last day, so
all of the managers were let go.
Now I was out on the street
knowing how it felt in a defeat.

I can't lose these thoughts
stuck in the back of my head.
Thoughts so perverse of me
they might wake the dead.
Words come out so fast,
I try to write them all down.
I must look, if you could see,
like a terrible, grotesque clown.
Please dear Lord, I ask for help,
when you hear this prayer,
for I am lost and now alone
in this cold, cold Winter air.

I don't know you,
so I should not care,
if your life is
filled with love or despair.
Realistically, I do
think about you,
for my compassion
and empathy, every day,
is to pray for your Soul
in my own unique way.
You can't be here
surrounded by laughter,
when every day there
is a new World disaster.

A flashing of light
across the night takes
takes me back to those
days when Searchlights
galore would brighten
your mind that a
new store was opening.
No TV, to speak of,
a limited choice,
to watch Kukla, Fran and Ollie,
followed by Stan Borenson
and perhaps some news.
One channel, King 5
was what I recall
with fuzzy black and white
pictures, no color at all.

Far away from this, our distant Sun,
There lies a Star, where life hasn't begun.
An artist's canvas, so far, far away
Will take many years plus one day
To arrive on a very bleak scene,
Of rocky crags, sifting sands, water stream,
Will abound with tropical areas being there
In this most foreign of breathable air.

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