My boots they needed polish. It was shine they wouldn’t get.

My mind it drifted off somewhere, I was in Bali or Tibet.

There was a woman in some sandals. Her hair was wet and black.

She smiled and looked friendly, then my memory it went back.

To that time I was barefooted, so hot that I had to run.

There was sand and sea and hopes and dreams and life had just begun.

Now I’m washing dishes and packing lunches for her school.

Funny how it all worked out, a life so sweet and far from cruel.

The weather changed, but there is no hardened rule.

You can put away the summer shorts, with the Ides of September Cool.

My friend is starting menopause, she will break out in a swet.

She is begging for the coolness, that September Cool will get.

The crazies are getting louder now, they’ve gone from cool to strange.

They’ve been praying to some Diety, and praying hard for change.

I get nervous when the usually quiet crazies go loud…

What could cause the change?

After years of saying nothing; just staring off into space is replaced with yelling well scripted insults at whomever and speaking with witchy hand gestures to beings I don’t see; is a bit off putting.

What has caused the change?

Do they know something I don’t?

Perhaps more will be revealed today.

Always something to look forward to!

Sometimes the fuse is lit.

Sometimes you hedge your bet.

Sometimes you have to sit.

Sometimes that’s all you get.

Sometimes there’s an option.

Sometimes the fuse is wet.

Sometimes there is no topspin.

Sometimes you just forget.

There’s no moral to this story.

Sometimes you take a chance.

Sometimes you play the music.

Sometimes you have to dance.

A Goddess, she was lovely.

Had me trembling at the knee.

But one bad use of pronouns.

And you know I had to flee.

Nothing new under the sun.

Same old same old.

Not even old pronouns.

Have anything new to hold.

I was worried about nothing. There was nothing on the slate.

There were rumblings in the closet. Though not the hand of fate.

Acceptance was my compliance. The wise had made a dent.

The voices had all left my head. Not broke but bruised and bent.

There’s a moment in the sunshine. With a cool September breeze.

I think I left her at the alter. To try some of, do as I please.

She plays a game I don’t play.

It’s called: Do what I want or it means you don’t love me…

I’m not angry. I am disappointed. I really like her.

What could have possibly happened to someone where an adult could possibly think that this could work with another adult?

I’m not sure I want to know.

I only know that I am too old for such gamesmanship.

There are no regrets, just experiences. The experience of losing a parent when you’re a child or loss of a child at any time is an experience full of regret, however it too does pass with time.

What must it be like to go through life without loss or regrets? To get old and the only thing that goes away is finally… your energy.

What a shock that much be. With nothing to compare to. This one does not get better with time. This one seems final.

There was confusion at the outset.

Unspoken silence in a blur.

There was a vague and fuzzy feeling.

Like the attraction I had for her.

There was something in the ether.

That held our gaze more than a smile.

An ancient distant haunting.

Like I’d known her for a while.

I left her at the counter.

A smile grin and then a nod.

A subtle fragrant mystery.

The like that makes me think of God.