A Senior Home Yields One Too Many

VIDEO/AUDIO on YouTube above. NOTE: On the video; double-click to enlarge, and/or, right-click for the drop-down menu and click on 'Loop' for auto-repeat, click settings and pick the highest level for quality viewing. A Senior Home Yields One Too Many I reminisce, I miss, as a soft clear voice leaves beyond my brewed coffee and a fragile hot cross bun that sits ere me, I drift amongst the springtime parasols that gather with their scattered limbs, summoned provocative passages of indelible mistrals that choreograph maiden leaves, all consumed by their gift of breath engage in its innate infinite cycle, and with everything being equal, hence, astir the preeminent deathless consciousness that owns me, to occasion an instant of time. In those wandering abrupts a phenomenon that unlocks imprisoned cells of one's upper regions, these guardians teem, their keepers of my soul who freed the cuffs that bind, plus loosened a pattern-like vividness that once had stalked in shadows vice, crisscross the cusp amidst seconds and decades, just jump on in the wheels of time. The dream is real, the image made true, the bubbles have burst, that all in all, it's evidently clear, I am in my wholeness with the presence of mind and my thoughts being sound, I see myself slipping within granules of sand that is without any hands to grasp onto within this hourglass of time. Facing my common routes ahead, highway robbers are met in due course, they often steal from me that very one thing, and for the life of me, I cannot remember, anciently a flame that prompts diminished embers, flickers about, tither and hither, leaping ashes to ashes time after time. Quizzical faces surround my every move, as words, I tempt to filter, tumbles like a house of cards, and as gathering clouds form neath my castle in the air, shrouded mist a foggy state as my gossamer clutch at straws whilst I shot blanks into the dark, I sensed a fragile situation brewing, susceptible circumstances arise, then with eyes cast down ere me, 'twas nothing more than my supped brewed coffee and my partially eaten fragile hot cross bun, now leaving with a soft clear smile, the moment when I laid down, drifts I toward thoughts of summer ... or was it fall ... I reminisce, I miss. 2021 April 10 *3rd Place* I REMINSSE I MISS ~~James Edward Lee Sr.