I have no time to notice
what takes place around me
Distractions daily duties grab focus
Alive in doubt danger or hope
from burial to birth- Acceptance
of any invitation makes for grief or mirth
More often taken and spilled
If the silhouette could speak it would
Say the real shadow is flesh and bone
That separates you from the real world
The balance between left and right
Where guilty extremes grow contrite...
Is the spirit a purple thing?
That laugh revives a warm memory.
Shoulders rolling hair swinging
That year a familiar territory
as near as last Saturday
As certain as sunrise
or flooding after rains
Or arrests after rallies
or waking after sleep
Be not proud.
In a downtown alley way
he stands but just barely and to see his
pale gaunt ashen frame is to ask-
When it’s cold outside
Put on something warm
and take it for a walk
if that’s possible
Keep the chair, the pets,
the artwork, the antiques
and I'll even throw in the garden hose
Just as long as my fate, a rose