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a love poem

I have watched the sun rise
over majestic mountains
and vast rolling seas,
but in my final days
the sunrise I’ll remember
is this pale December light
on the oaks across the lane,
and you in your pajamas
making tea.

If you’ve read this blog or my book – SLOW RIVERS, Poems From My Sixties – you may have noticed that I often write about aging and the inevitable changes that accompany that process. In that vein, and from the “Ain’t That a Hoot” department, I have an appointment next month to have my first set of hearing aids fitted on my 70th birthday. (“Isn’t it ironic; don’t ya think? A little too ironic? Yeah, I really do think.”- from Ironic by Alanis Morissette) *

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A New Poem Every So Often.
(No regular schedule right now; life gets in the way.)

Joseph Neely, all rights to original material reserved.