Kaleidoscope

Picture a big red house on a hilltop high.
Maybe the hill was not really that high,
The house not that big at all.
But I was small.

A happy childhood with him
I can conjure up at whim
As I remember my cousin Joe
Who made it so.

Three years my elder, he taught me by the score,
Things like reading, spelling, and the rest.
He wanted me to astound when I went to school.
He wanted me to be the best.

When I was eight, my family moved away,
Sadly, Joey and I each went a separate way.
Unknowing, I left him to comply
With mental ills that soon began to multiply.

While for me, other friendships,
Some of which still endure,
Filled my life and my days.
I just wish now I had visited Joey more.

Still, wouldn't it be a crime
In these, my Eighties Years,
To waste precious, fleeting time
Shedding guilty tears?

Wouldn't it be better instead
To focus on images that of late
Play and replay in my head?
A kaleidoscope of Joey and me.

Perchance To Dream: A Triolet

When I lie deep in slumber, where do I go?
Is it a place where unbeknownst to me I yearn to be?
Often, pondering upon waking, I wonder if that be so.
When I lie deep in slumber, where do I go?
Is my subconscious somehow in the know,
Or capriciously is it toying with me?
When I lie deep in slumber, where do I go?
Is it a place where unbeknownst to me I yearn to be?

Haikus

wind begins to stir  

rustling of leaves picks up 

drop by drop, the rain

over distant hills

a train sounds a mournful cry

boding fills the air

Senyru:

elevator hums

on its way to the lobby

door opens, we spill out

The Zoe Disease and Other Afflictions

    She felt the lump inside her mouth – on the roof, top tooth row, about six teeth back.  Betsy, her daughter, and Betsy's kids had a dog once.  Zoe.  Cute little thing.  We all loved her.  Couldn't help loving her. She taught us all about love – the unconditional kind.  Zoe died of Cancer.  Well, actually, they “put her to sleep” as they say.  She couldn't eat anymore, even after an operation to have the growth in her mouth removed.  They gave her chemo.  It came back.  All it gave her was another nine or ten months.  Really, it gave the family another nine or ten months.  She had no concept of time, and the for some seven or so months it was life as usual for her.  So was it worth it?  Well, now let's see.  Five years they had her.  One week they agonized over whether the operation or not.  Three weeks or so, operation recovery.  Two months or so, Zoe's cross-jawed face distortion.  Then about some six months of life as usual.  For her.  Not for them; they were walking a constant tight-rope.  Is it coming back?  Will it be back?  Is she cured – for how long?  It was a high-wire act – almost a live-wire act.  But not for Zoe.  For Zoe it was a short window of return to normacy. Now Elmira wondered if the lump in her own mouth was Zoe's disease?  What do you think? She asked her doctor-son.  He looked at it.  It could be, he said, but I think it's an abcessed tooth.  Call Dr. Watson and make an appointment.

Lillian's Uncle Cippolla (A Villanelle)

Whenever we were together, we were young again
As when we had met six decades ago at Pitt.
Then you up and died and left me.

Once retired, we'd meet each month, come sun or rain.
I at the wheel, and on the passenger side you would sit.
Whenever we were together, we were young again.

How we'd shop – all over the Pennsylvania country,
Giddy like silly school girls through most of it.
Then you up and died and left me.

You taught me about antiques and French porcelain.
I taught you Italian to make up for it.
Whenever we were together, we were young again.

The Italian word cippolla means onion, and it tickled me
That you thought that so unbelievably funny, and yet –
Then you up and died and left me.

“I really really did have an Uncle Cippolla,” you said,
Whenever we were together, we were young again.
Then you up and died and left me.

April Fool and Anticipation, haiku-ish

Two Haiku for Spring

Birds sing in March dawn
Crocuses peek across the lawn
Spring is here at last

White roads, car tires spin 

Snowflakes wild in April wind

Winter’s one last blast

A Haiku For Morning Walk

Morning sun’s warm kiss
It gets no better than this
A walk in summer

I Have Something To Say

Something to say,

It hides away

Cloaked in memories

Too harsh, too cruel

To be given voice..

I have something to say.

Oh, but do not say

Lest you risk

All.

Yet someday, one day, 

Something to say will out.

Then look out.

Then be prepared to let all go – 

memories, bitterness, longing –

Love.