Jim Yerman Poems

I grew up in Ohio with 4 seasons; each one normal, proud and strong
A season would last about 3 months before the next one came along.

If we were struggling through a bad season, too much heat, or snow, or cold
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If you walk as the sun is rising over the mountains on paths surrounded by the trees…you're constantly surprised by nature's ever-changing beauty and her host of lively imageries.

With an acapella harmony emanating from every tree around…
you begin to notice the sunlight…how it dances to the ground.
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I love when generations of a family come together…
how they ride happily on our shoulders…when our life is full of sunshine,
full of light and warm…
and how they hoist us onto their shoulders to help us weather any storm.
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When our TV goes to sleep we have this app that immediately awakens…it links to all our photographs…every photograph we've ever taken.

The photographs appear for a few seconds…chosen randomly from a vast array…enough to stir a memory before that memory fades away.
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They didn't know each other as children…their seeds of love were later sewn…when the two of them were older…when the two them were grown.

At least that's what he thought at first…but he quickly had his doubts…for he falls in love with her child…every time she lets her child out.
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There is no doubt Fate plays a part in our lives…from its beginning…to its end.
I'm reminded of this when I think back to a story of three friends.

Fate brought their families to the same neighborhood…where time together they would spend…each family had a daughter and the three would soon become good friends.
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I imagine when we look into our hearts…when we probe the corners of our soul…we'll find moment in our life…over which we have no control.

Moments that help shape the person we daily come to be…moments left entirely in the hands of destiny.
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Through the years of watching our children and grandchildren grow…they never left a doubt…as to those things that were important to them…and those things they never cared about.

They never cared if we were old or bald…or short or tall or fat.
They never cared about our physical flaws…(Boy, were we glad of that!)
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Today we commemorate 9/11…we remember the moment our world turned grey…it's our annual reminder…of everyone and everything we lost that tragic…fateful day.

There have been 20 years of children born Sind 9/11…an entire generation not around…not around the day those lives were lost…not around the day our world came tumbling down.
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Our candles of love burn softly…yet our whole world they can illuminate,
but our candles of love are fragile…they can be blown out by the winds of hate.

When our candles of love are extinguished…when they surrender their last spark,
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