Write

I mostly write
What happens to
Me or has happened
My only flight of fancy the
Mirabelle poems my muse
Being the dogs upstairs who
Barked at five in the morning
So my poems are my auto
Biography not in any set
Order but as they came
To me and if they show
My naïveté stupidity
Reckless chances
I regret nothing
Still friends I
Have kept
Faith to
Never abandon
Nor betray for always
No matter what and if a
Bit repetitive it’s only
Hindsight showing
Perception is too
Relative to gage
Right or wrong
Yet I am still
Grateful to
Feel some
Passion
For life
At 75
Almost.
I have smelled
The rose petals’ pink
Blush reached out to touch
Beauty and I would be
A great fool if I had
Not for the heart
Needs some
Company
To share
A smile
Laugh
And write.