Save me from getting old
Your fingers forever a sacred chalice
To which my lifeline shall be caught
As I freely let
Unto the fingers that touch me so.
I shall not shy away
From this touch you lay upon
Skin so stretched as leaves turn gold
Save me from getting old.
Tag: old
Reaction (day 2463)
You know we’ve got a connection
When we’re having a reaction
Laying in the summer breeze
Here I’m growing old
Let’s dine on sun and forever run
Into our modus operandi
Winter, Run Over Me (day 2121)
Winter, where have you gone from me
Lost in the great thaw
Confusion melting all around
From your serene gentle cold heart
Keep me in a catacomb
A maze under the permafrost.
Winter, I remember days gone by
My mind shifts North: cloudy sky
Priceless antidote
Boiled water in a kettle old
Dried leaves in a mounding heart
Run over me, lost to darkness.
Fingertips (day 1777)
When did my hands start to look so old?
I hope one day I will return
And it will wash away
And I will be let out to run
In the sweet grass that stains
My fingertips
Ode to a Lonely Pine (day 1769)
Like my grandfather that came to rest
Rocking slowly in his old pine chair,
You watch the vista with an open air
Shaking loose your frazzled hair.
For in the cold months
You stand tall and proud,
And in the dark days
Your silhouette is my lighthouse home,
And in crisp mornings
Your tips refresh me
Like my eyelids breaking free.
But before I walk up to shake your hand
I wait for you to permit me through,
For your roots stretch long beneath the floor
And touch my home, forever more.
Just Fine (day 1587)
Left my memories
On an empty bank today
Singing an old song
And my heart bleeds on
Turned to a broken arrow
Shot through the dark
Loosely wrapped with a
Half written love letter
Leather upon my wrists
Empty and holding it tight
Got a wing on my mind
Baby, I’m doing just fine.
Ashram Day 16 (day 1419)
Dance with me now
Through effortless flow:
Thick overgrown trail,
Dandelion row.
Dance with me now
On windowsills: old,
Like old and refreshed;
Long love letters confessed.
Dance with me now
Where colors match rainbows,
In tropical poison
I am your randsom.
Dance with me now
Sunrise to sunset,
Typeset and subset,
Tea set with chocolate.
A Proper Man’s Time (day 1381)
Darker abstracts of our life
Face open windows
When calms begun once again.
In a proper man’s time
There’s a short road to freedom,
In a proper man’s time
A line’s lost in old wisdom.
Could the full moon retreat life,
Could it catch hold of time?
When the blinds keep a blowin’.
In a proper man’s time
There’s a short road to freedom,
In a proper man’s time
A line’s lost in old wisdom.
Old dog’s been here resting
Against the old wooden door.
Got his head in the sunlight,
Open window no more.
Duke (day 1367)
Dear George,
I watched the twins go back and forth on the swings today,
It kind of made me feel sea-sick, like when I used to go high.
I remember it was always funner competing
Against my brother or sister to see
Who could go highest.
Did you jump off at the end?
Perhaps that’s why my feet get sore sometimes now.
Could you ever have dreamed we’d both have twins
When we’d first met?
How we’ve both become family people now.
I like the family though, my small bit of world
I’ve nurtured around me.
It’s different then a close knit group of friends
All keenly interested and active in each other’s lives,
But I’m influential all the same, and I like the closeness
We all have regularly. My whole world.
Do you also get this feeling with yours?
Duke, our little fox terrier is getting quite old now.
Do you remember when we first got him?
I was looking at the photographs of him
As a puppy the other day, so cute.
He sits and comes when called,
And when we go for a walk he’s always very obedient.
He gets along with the kids so well.
I hate to think of life without Duke, but we must brace for it a bit.
Hope you’re well George,
We all look forward to your visit this summer.
Sincerely,
Julie.
Maker (day 1365)
I don’t want to hold hands with fate anymore,
I don’t want to believe there’s a right way,
Or that I have a significant impact on worth,
On death, or the elusive act thereof.
With whom shall I grow old with,
If I am not planning it out?
With what shall I enjoy, if gamblers
Keep convincing me I’m right.
Share my soul with wounded hearts!
Hardly healthy and needing.
Share my aches amongst the rocks!
Already scalded sourly
For I am no man fit for redemption,
I am no guest at the gates of fate
And I have brought no gifts for my maker.