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Details | Moving On Poem | |

WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong 
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting  my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------

Layers and layers of lifeless brick, 
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT! 
Emotional poster boards of doubt 
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced

Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality 
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel  
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch

Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, slave my skin  
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms  

Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick 
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!

Plastered wounds of cement dries and roughens along the edge
A human made barrier not even God comes in.

by;PD

Details | Moving On Poem | |

IT'S OVER

You thought you’d make a fool of me
I was so blind but now I see
So now you’ve had your little joke
Guess I’m just warning other folk

You’d look at me with those bedroom eyes
But your tender words I now despise
You broke my heart through and through
Well honey I’ve got news for you

Your designer clothes are now in rags
Packed up inside black plastic bags
Your cars been scratched and it’s got a dent
Your names been taken off the rent

You love to flirt, but you’re a cheat
You’re just like a dog on heat
But I’m now aware of your little game
No man will hurt me ever again

Don’t get taken in by charming men
They use you and just start again
From now on I am in control
Hey man you’re just an asshole

Jan Allison
24th July 2014

Details | Moving On Poem | |

BASTARD

"All Children Are Beautiful"

His heart of white deep, shallow wells, yet beautiful
He smirks a grin, with an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard, of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pounding from shame 
What is his sin, he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come inside my light, like a good dame

I sing and tell a tale, A Bastard through the night
His eyes, I waged, I was young and poor, I was saved
Lying down, in the arms of my white knight
My hair, he caressed, he came in my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment so golden, the ages live, his son is born

Another Bastard brought into this world

By: PD

Details | Moving On Poem | |

- When The Backpack Feels Heavy -

 

    Hold on tight 
    A journey begins 
    Not in the crowded city streets 
    A journey of high mountains 
    as close to heaven 
    that you think you can catch the stars 
    Pack your backpack with sad thoughts 
    Upwards ... the bag is heavy 
    I will hold you in your hand 
    Stop ... take a deep breath 
    Your journey has begun 
    Proud high mountains suddenly makes the backpack a little lighter 
    Follow your feet forward
    The air is crisp and fresh 
    Even if you are tired 
    Lower your shoulders 
    I'll teach you to dance on the sparkling snow 
    Our goal is the top 
    The backpack feels lighter 
    Do not give up - we will reach our peak 
    Heavy thoughts erased 
    Abrasions and tired feet 
    Satisfaction - a major force 
    The goal is reached ... you won 
    Dance in the sparkling snow ... catch your star 
    The backpack is empty 
    The whole world is at your feet




    21.05.2014
    A-L  Andresen :)

Details | Moving On Poem | |

After The Storm

Lightning flashed, blinded my innocent, trusting eyes.
Thunder ravaged my soul, and forced out my cries.

Destructive winds threatened, ripped me all apart.
Raindrops, the tears that ever flooded my heart.

Dark clouds were ever-present, in turbulent air.
Yet, no winds could stir the flowers in my hair.

No longer waiting for that storm to pass the hill.
I left it behind, and walked away by my own will.

A rainbow shined beautifully, yet arched into a frown.
As every now and then, the rain still comes down.

I have stepped right over you, like scattered debris.
As the sun's rays now light down a new path for me.





For Shanity Rain's contest - "After The Storm"


Details | Moving On Poem | |

Houston we have a problem

"When returning love, becomes to Late"

Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently 
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly

Sending her soul
A free feeling, 
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily 
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate 
Too long she waited, 
She's not hungry, her heart self healed 

3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name 

SKAT

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Pleasures of Moving on Moon

Pleasures of Moving on Moon


You have always charmed us by your beauty, O Moon,
Sometimes fascinating Heer and Ranjha*, and sometimes,
Mesmerizing Romeo and Juliet.

Sometimes you have spread your charms, on the monuments of Love, 
Alluring the beauty of Taj*, in the full moon light of Purnamasi*
O, Moon how many faces of Love and Beauty you have,
When you stroll silently on a snow covered maintain,
The beauty and your grandeur becomes envy for the heaven.

For Poets and Writers you have immense stories and inspirations,
For Lovers you are more precious than gold and diamond,
For singers you are like the soul of their songs,
For Boatman’s, you are their sole companion of their silence and turbulence.

While watching you so intensely from earth,
I felt, as if I was wondering on the silver surface of you O, Moon,
Moving and feeling, no gush of wind,
No moisture of Rains and dryness of Sun,
No falling of leaves, in the season of Autumn,
No bending of rivers, flowing from mountains to oceans
No murmuring of birds while mating and chatting,
No change of seasons to engage my mind and heart,
Still I was fascinating to move on the silver surface of you, O Moon.

Walking on your surface was a strange experience for me O, dear Moon,
As I was trying to feel the unique pleasures of earth, 
While moving on your silvr surface, O Moon.

Ravindra
Kanpur India 22nd November 2010
Soon I will post this as My Photo Poem with the Photograph of Moon on my Blog and on face
book, which I took on 22nd Nov. 2010

•	Heer and Rangha. The Indian Lovers like Romeo and Juliet 
•	Purnamasi.      The Day as per Indian calendar, when we can see the full Moon.
•	Taj.                  Refers to the world famous Taj Mehal monument of Agra, India.

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Layers Of Bricks

Most go into a relationship protecting and guarding their heart
I do the opposite, mine is open wide right from the start
Others have built bricks around theirs, that have to be torn down
I slowly put up a layer each time a hurt makes me frown

With each rejection, disappointment, another layer gets laid
It's beyond my control, swish, swish goes the spade
Unkind words, untruths, the layer of bricks climb higher     
Until my heart is safely buried away from the crossfire 

Now protected by the bricks, I become emotionally detached
Only now able to see why we were inevitably mismatched
People love in different ways and have different needs
Next time I'll find a matching heart, before I plant my seeds

In time, the bricks surrounding my heart will turn to clay
Then dissolve into dust, for I'm too optimistic to live in dismay
The dust will be eventually blown away by someone with a open heart
And thus be the reason why every other relationship has fallen apart

Details | Moving On Poem | |

ROOTS

                                     i am with the roots
                                     of flowers
                                     entwined, entombed
                                     sending up my passionate blossoms
                                     as a flight of rockets
                                     and argument

                                     Charles Bukowski,  Penguin Modern Poets 13 


   _________________________________________

ROOTS



I chose toile wallpaper
in muted blues
since pastoral scenes 
refuse to budge

Pick that, girl,
and you get nothing else

I stood my ground 

Our ninth move,
I only wanted 
the repeating pattern
of that mill

It’s wheel
would never turn

Homes revolved,
doors slammed, 
nothing was ever still

my mother lit sticks 
of manic dynamite 
which drilled holes in walls,
and drilled holes in my father
who lost 
more chunks of himself
every day

Afternoons shuttled me
into corners 
with Bukowski or Plath,
love lesions,
heavy bloodstones,
sponges

Evenings, too, never settled,
the wind stayed up,
tippled glasses,
ripped pages from 
my books

But when hell 
shifted even darkness into fester-reds, 
I crept into pastels...
as untouched as the core of flame,
as motionless as Wedgewood



Details | Moving On Poem | |

Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14








.

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Moving On

Moving On
Unfulfilled dreams and wasted time, Found out the hard way that you were never mine. Moonlit nights must have made me loca, Stupid me, next time I’ll definitely be smarter.
How could I ever think I was your love? My mistake - I was a blind judge. Took me a while to see through your silly, fake smile; Took me a while to see through your practiced guile.
A masterful seducer, bet you think you are so cool, Yes, I feel like such a damn fool. Weaving a web of deliberate lies and deceit, Your best subject is “How to Cheat, Cheat, Cheat!”
Don Juan has nothing over you, Your middle name is “Master of the Game Two.” But never mind, Lothario, revenge is a dish served cold, And you're nothing to me now that I've broken through the mold.
Blowing your cover, It’s your loss, lover. ‘Cause I will certainly recover - Faster than you think, - Faster than you can blink, - Faster than a shipwreck, you’re the one who will sink.
But forget you, fool, I AM MOVING ON! I’m outta here – GONE!

Details | Moving On Poem | |

PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE

We can all sit back and review the past
Of relationships that sadly didn’t last
We ask ourselves just what went wrong
And our songbird sings a sad blues song

Time to move on and get on with our life
Deal with all our old worries and strife
We can only learn from past a mistake
Hope for better days with less heartache

We cannot predict what the future will bring
But I hope in time your heart does sing
And you find the one that you’ll adore
Restoring happiness to your life once more

Jan Allison
24th August 2014

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Her Heart Thaws

Her Heart Thaws


Ice crystals in her heart soon departed
as she met another very broken hearted
Gentle man destroyed by very dark witch
untrue to feed her gigantic greedy itch

Now bloody swords have been withdrawn
sun emerges, wind sings a sweet song
Old scars vanishing without a trace
smiles sprouting upon each happy face

Scales of justice now right old wrongs
joys spring forth in melodies and songs
Life rewards those that seek true love
with sweet blesses from the heaven above

Robert J. Lindley, 09-02-2014

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Here, My Dear

Humble yesterday, your intimate memories are now
bearing false witness, following our demise. 
There are scattered whispers of a residential cloud 
nine, that I called my own after the storm. 
No myth could be written guiltier. 
For beyond this stable armor of masculinity, 
existed a worst case scenario that I had obtained. 

It is no fault of your own, to interpret me with the 
simplest guess, and yet, it would be the greatest 
therapeutic comfort, knowing that you recalled my 
brief torture. Here it reads. 

The cruelest servant was obviously day one. 
For as I showered in my own gloom, the clearest 
joy accepted no hint of my presence. 
The hours worked overtime to deplete every page 
of life, that bordered around this broken clockwork 
of loneliness. 

By now I merely existed by priorities merciless 
hand. As I forced myself upon my studies, there was 
no absence of absent guilt on call. 
I realized this inevitable misstep, the moment I 
stumbled into a single entity yet again. 
By the time I found a conscience to shave towards 
a better day, spring had already departed, 
and I was just beginning to exit sobrieties 
unbearable cliff. 

The cause to blame beyond myself was tempting;
to see the bewildered scene, as opposed to feeling 
its complex wounds. 
I yearned for this flood to cease constantly, in 
retrospect, prematurely. 
However, the suffering hadn’t pierced my spirit just 
yet. That cherry that ultimately left a mark on top 
was my sick eyes. 

Perhaps defined as the perfect fate for the already 
faltered, was my cluttered throat, which 
allowed no apologetic cliques to exist in air. 
The devil’s vomit that would not pause until 
more suffering regurgitated, and lastly, 
the mindful ache that vibrated at its own
intervals. 

Friends could sense the hell that plagued my 
sleep. So much that they offered their similar 
battles to my faint ears. 
I heard their souls, but never their hearts; only 
mine was selfish enough for that luxury, despite 
its hostile coma. But then, 5 months, 22 days, and 
4 afternoon hours later, another chapter was introduced, 
and it was entitled The Aftermath. 

The acceptance of what could only be formerly 
beautiful, came to be the answer that cured me. 
In the end, I was thankful for the inferno, and 
overjoyed that these words could be written from 
Solomon’s throne. 

Previous rose, as you open and fold these heartfelt 
abrasions, be mindful of these moments that are no
longer bleeding, but rather teaching, of those bullets 
that never truly miss. 

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Whats Broken

What’s Broken?

Some things that are broken can never be fixed
Like hearts shattered, as glass on the floor
What felt like love, don’t no more
No distance No time
No rhythm No rhyme
No song No Dance
No Coincidence No chance
Hey if distance only makes the heart grow fonder 
What about time, It only makes you wonder
Like 
What about that time we were together
At the place we use to go
You held my hand
I stared in your eyes
The telephone ranged us 
Back to realty 
Mic check one two one two
I looked back and where were you
Gone without a trace, or explanation.
It felt like a plan shot down from the sky 
Or a child falling from a building 
Right before your eye
Or a laboring mom with great anticipation  
Only to be told that it was still born
Yeah that’s a heart breaker,
 Yeah that’s a Faith Shaker
Yeah that’s a breath taker,
 Lies Deceit
 Cries Defeat
 Who are we to judge?
What more can we say
If our heart got broken
We got what we deserved.



 


Details | Moving On Poem | |

I Recall The Wind

Particles of truth fall on me, like soup thick fog 
I recall the wind, and mama flogging the carpet with a Fuller Brush 
The smell of chloride in my nasal vestibule becomes an old sachet of memory 
As down the cobbled stone lanes I go, searching for a missing doll
Signor Antonio is wearing out the 48 brass buttons to his joyful squeeze box 
While my pointed chin nods at him, he spangles his best silver tooth 
SMILE **** 
Gone is the debris of the night before 
The empty liquored bottles filthy ashtrays and none belongs 
The little wadding pool is warm as tub 
As my little toe sinks it also slides towards the cool plastic 
A lonely pine cone dislodges from the tree, and falls at my feet 
Mama’s bakes caress the windows of our little kitchenette, 
I take my little pet home, and arrange it on papa’s white kerchief
Then, while Peesie sleeps in my middle drawer, 
I sit on the kitchen stool and devour her bakes, 
While Papa’s leaves go crunch, underneath his rusted rake. 

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Time Elapsed

All those years flew away 
for nothing.
Then of course the headaches 
started when weeping constantly
at the unfairness of my marriage.
You need to know that I didn't 
love him but I cherish the family 
we've created, you, my children 
are the center of my life.

My hardships coping with 
my authoritarian husband
drove us apart.
I started drifting away to 
avoid being at his mercy .

I couldn't help myself to 
get around those roadblocks 
that at the time deprived me
 from walking through
 a new path of change. 
I was stalling even in my silence, 
aware of all the deceptions 
that had come to characterize
 my life.

I had learned the hard way 
to stay calm and pretend 
that I didn't sense what was
happening to me,
and let time do its magic.
I wore this mask for so long 
I didn't feel safe without it
 exposing my true identity,
 it had to remain hidden .

I stopped blaming myself 
as I was able to survive 
my pain over the years.
Time has elapsed and done
 everything to diminish 
my anxiety and eventually
allow my soul to heal.
I cannot tolerate seeing 
myself weep anymore.

I started genuinely enjoying 
every thought that passed by, 
ready to feed myself with knowing
I would not repeat the same mistakes.
I ended up riding this roller coaster
of emotions feeling everything.
I was able to survive the pain
 when I was at the bottomless 
despair.

My walks alone under the 
blazing stars,
imagining and wishing I would 
never see him again, 
craving my marriage 
to become a memory .

I started feeling that I found 
my silence smoothed my inner anger, 
my passion has been real despite 
my original skepticism.

Walking towards my cottage 
I knew there'd been 
a reason for it.
Somehow though the wilderness 
enhanced the beauty around my 
cottage garden, 
the clouds were getting thicker 
and darker,
running inside towards 
my refuge, 
I realized that I liked being 
in control of my own life.
      At Last.

Therese Bacha
13 October 2014

Details | Moving On Poem | |

A moment in time

A moment in time..

I saw you across the room the other day,
Much like another time when you held my gaze,
Pulling me in with one passing glance
Our longing eyes betraying thoughts, that this might be another chance
This is crazy I thought, we both surmised and laughed.
Looking away, looking back again, can anyone else see what’s going on?
This moment of desire shared between you and me,
Embracing the what ifs and what would be?
Two strangers living separate lives, intertwining paths in space and time
Connecting in ways we could not explain
The thought of one touch occupying all senses
Haunted by the what could have been
If I would have been, the one to say I do
We recently shared a moment in awkward conversation
Trying to be informal and coy,                                                                                           But what we really wanted was to
Wrestle with the deep mysteries of each other.   
The woman in you celebrating the man in me
The man in me praising the woman in you, the beauty of you
With your long hair and misty eyes, just something about the way
You look at me, makes my body leap inside, and weep at the same time.

Where were you from? What was your name?
The love from my youth is one and the same,
Has it been that long? Forbidden romance lost in memory
Something of a glimpse captured in remembrance,
Yes! You found me in my misery long ago
Wanting to love me out of a misguided childhood,
Only to be met with at the time, a beautiful mess
We shared intimate conversation, falling for one another
As words fell from our lips, an exchange of hopes and dreams
We fulfilled a need in one another, drying tears from each other’s eyes
For a season,
But momentum drove us on separate paths, on distant shores
I watched you fade away, like a fog across the bay.

Do I have regrets and will I have regrets?
Sure I do, and yes I will,
I didn’t have the words to tell you then, what pride refused to say,
That you meant more to me than handholds on a treacherous mountain,
That your tenderness broke through layers of bitterness left untouched,
And that now, like before you shake the foundations of my very being,
Only you have been able to reach me there.
Shall we embrace this forbidden love? Build a future out of broken lives?




You have yours and I have mine, what will become of us if we pursue?
Sometimes true love is never meant to be shared, if it decimates 
The only thing you know to be true, what is real and what is now
And the impact a dream can have.
So when I see you now, at least for the moment I can believe and know
Your okay and that life has treated you well and that you’re happy,
We can find peace in our circumstances, the way we found each other again.
And smile remembering that once we shared a moment in time..


Details | Moving On Poem | |

He was only 17

He crushed his heart. On hopes flutteringly light as butterfly wings. On dreams foolishly bright as silver bells. On dreams seemingly fine and looking good. He broke his heart. On tales of lust hewn from his faint heart. He banked his faith on the words of a woman. He lost his sight searching into darkness. He thought it wise to love once and never again. He thought he had found his only love. His only hope. He was only 17

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Come Sit by My Side

[Hymnal Measure Structure, a4,b3,c4,d3 with internal rhyme]

Come sit by my side, my sweet August bride,
	We’ll speak of the things we hold dear.
Of wind in the trees and fire in the leaves
	At our favorite time of the year.

Don’t you remember how deep in December
	We’d listen to snow softly falling?
Though faint in the ear its message was clear,
	A breeze from up north had come calling.

I wish there were more than just these twenty-four
	Hours to spend in a day.
Then we’d go far, our guide the North Star,
	And surely—at length—find our way.

But what to do until then, my dear, treasured friend,
        As hope’s often met with dismay.
Hearing all the day’s news and questionable truths,
        The will to do good goes astray.

So let’s run and hide, my wise August bride
	To a place that no one can find.
On a mist-covered shore we’ll be happy once more,
	As we leave the real world far behind.	

5th Place, Any Poem Goes, Poet Destroyer A

Details | Moving On Poem | |

New Year's Eve Ballad

New Year's Eve Ballad

It’s true one year just ended
And that another one began
In places crowds did gather
They drank and offered cheer
There was singing and ‘twas dancing
Celebrating the New Year.

As a child I do remember
This special time of year
When bedtime was extended
And the neighbors were all there
Together at the strike of twelve
Celebrating the New Year.

And as I grew much older
As did the other friends I know
We continued all to gather
As this special time did near
We talked of all the years past
Celebrating the New Year.

So many friends are gone now
So many that I knew
But always I remember
The times that we did bear
I think of them now as I am
Celebrating the New Year.

Last year we met such challenges
Not all glory, not all fun
But stood each with the other
As we chased away the fear
We faced just ‘one day at a time’ and now are
Celebrating the New Year.

Cheers I say to others
As I pop the cork and drink
Thinking now all days are special
Though life sometimes does seem unfair
Still I drink to health and happiness
Celebrating the New Year.


Details | Moving On Poem | |

Ice Breaker

The limbs of the tree are now cold and barren
as they reach up into the sky above
searching for what was lost,
as the playful, fallen leaves are now gone,
taken away with the winds of time.

Nothing but a gray cloudiness
overtakes the skies
the warm sunlight disappears
more and more each day
as the darkness closes in.
Frigid winds come down from the North,
bringing with them a reckless abandon
with no care for the warmth
of the human heart.

Cold raindrops evolve into icy snowflakes
that fall for miles 
before they reach the earth
and are caught by the barren arms of the tree.
The world is now silent in the grace of wintertime.

A stubborn chill surrounds the human heart
trying to instill itself into every chamber
yet, it cannot end the beating drum
when there is a song of happiness
dwelling there forevermore.

Some days the sun still shines,
yet, it changes nothing
the warmth lingers somewhere else,
until the sun decides to stay
a little more each day.

Eventually, the warm-hearted will melt 
away the frost around them.
The frozen ice will begin to thaw and disappear,
soon a small crack forms, and spreads across
separating the ice
where a trickle of water is finally free to flow
out into the warmth of springtime.
And the world comes back to life,
re-awakening and reborn again.




Details | Moving On Poem | |

One picture at a time

A toddlers Crayola masterpiece marks the box
Where the story of our days now tarry
Passages tilting the axis of a bittersweet equinox
As photographs eclipse yesterday and today unvaried 

The plans we made for a life
After years of work and worry
Useless installments when your partner dies
The crumbling of everything you once held firmly

Riveted, uprooted with every slide
Scenes of "our time" bring you back to life
I step from earth, you from the sun, for yet another goodbye
And the dam finally collapses behind brave hazel eyes

But not the brokenness your death left behind
Still, though no more than ashes it resides
Like faded photographs etched in the mind
Fanning the embers... one picture at a time

Rage rises, for you left me alone
Without refuge for all life's trials
And our sons fatherless before they were grown 
Every step feeling more like a mile

I've grieved so long 
And tried to move on
Like river water never looking back
But it's motion sings the the words to our song

Leaving me afraid I'll never belong
Or live out the plan we devised
For all my days my efforts give way
Blundering, burdened and blind

How does one truly recover
When the mate of their soul is no more
Or pass from one realm to yet another
When the walls of your heart no longer have a door? 

Frustration builds like Lego towers
toppling to the floor under the weight of the world
Is it grief or something disguised by cowards
When a heart gets stuck from the pain that it's learned? 

This ode to a man 
Who in covenant took my hand
The marriage equator engraved a permanent mark...
For his death left a total eclipse of my heart

Crazy as a loon
But my God... how I loved you
My eyes fixed upon our favored moon
And I wonder... Do you miss me too?

Anniversaries used to be a joyous accomplishment
Marking years of selfless love made
Now it serves only an acknowledgement 
Of a life interrupted by a cruel twist of fate

Of ill trusted hopes 
And a future unmade
For us left behind to cope
With memories and photographs fading away

On this the 2nd anniversary...
            Of your passing away



In memory of my husband of 25 years
Charley Romani 
(My Beloved)



Details | Moving On Poem | |

Tanka 8

This poem has been deleted due to possible publication.

Details | Moving On Poem | |

Pal

Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Bob quietly passed away.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the grave, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.

She smiled.  “I had a dog when I was young….
a good one too.  His name was Pal.”