How poetic can you be? Write a short poem about what you see

So sad. Lots of emotion. I guess it was your turn to make me cry.

A Minds Journey

As I look into her eyes that glaze back at me with blank stares, I recall a beautiful young woman, young and vibrant and so full of life.

But that was a long time ago, 60 years or so.

Life, had its up and downs, but we lived it to the fullest, and time took its toll.

She now looks at me, never says a word as the clock ticks away.

I come to see her every day at the home where she now stays, I do wish to take her home but it is not safe for her in her state of mind. She needs the constant care, that at my age I cannot give, for my health is not that great.

Yes I remember all of life’s joys, our honeymoon to San Francisco, riding the Cable car to the Fisherman’s Wharf. We stay at the Fairmont boy what a great hotel, love that place. All the things we did like going to Golden Gate Park, Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge, boy was that fun, what a walk across that swaying bridge in the fog that was great fun.

Then it was back to Colorado and our new home, we lived there for several years, raised our family, made a lot of friends, ah but most of them are gone. I remember when John Jr was born, and all she went through to deliver that kid. Then there was Ron and finally Emily. Yes I can remember those great vacations we took to the Coast, and how we finally moved to Santa Rosa, boy did we love that area.

Ah but that was long ago, the kids all grew up and now they take care of me, I see them every day, and Emily sits with me while I eat sometimes and talks to me.

Dear, I wish you could come home with me so you can see the kids, they keep asking about you!

At the door to a hospital room, stood two Women and a man, they were all dress in white. As one woman was talking the other two were looking into the room. Doctor Elizabeth Brown, the head psychiatrist at the Langley Porter Psychiatric, was taking to the two new orderlies assigned toward C.

That gentleman is Mr. Jones, He’s been here a long time, and has been in other institutions over the last 60 years. He just sits there and mumbles, no one know what he is saying, he just mumbles.

For years we have tried to breakthrough to him, but he is in his own world. It’s as if his brain was like a puzzle that was drop and all the pieces fell onto the floor. We cannot seem to put the pieces back like they were. But something is going on inside his head, but we just can’t reach him. Now days we just let him be, and try to make his life as comfortable as possible. He 89 years old now and the doctors say he won’t last much longer, he has untreatable cancer.

But I still get a tear in my eyes for him, is whole life wasted, and it’s all because of a horrible accident many years ago.

You see him and his young bride were on their honeymoon, they were flying to California when their plane crash in the Sierra’s, It was horrible, a lot of people died, I understand it took two days to find them. He was the only survivor, He was found holding his dead wife, he was just sitting there holding her dead body and looking at her as she stared back, he was just mumbling. Sad to say he been that way ever since.

Now he just sits there looking at that old picture of his new wife, mumbling something to it.

Like I said his brain is like a puzzle, but we cannot make the pieces fit!

Guildford H Windley

March 17, 2018

Lost Pieces

Broken puzzle held slightly by tarnished glue,

A tender touch no longer felt since I lost you.

The pieces no longer fit the cracks no longer seal,

Temptations I leave behind, reality no longer real.

Such are the tears shed, cracks and crevices my lost soul,

My life’s phase gathered in silence now like a story unfolds,

Would that you could reunite the pieces in their rightful place,

Oh, my love kiss me once and return the lost smile to my face.

© Cynthia Clark

nearly at the end of my wits

when the last piece of the puzzle fits

The last piece of the puzzle fit into place

Taking up the last of the space

But what was the puzzle In the first place

Was it a question to answer from within

Was it a quest to be the best

There was no guide, no pictures to follow

The puzzle of life can take a while

It changes its picture from day to day

Some times the colour is white, sometimes its shades of grey,

Sometimes it’s bright, sometimes it’s dark

But the very last piece is one we all seek

It’s the piece that completes the puzzle that’s uniquely you