I pray you, do not trample on my dreams.   Though you may only see this mortal shell, A frail thing of flesh; this outward reality,   Is of no greater substance than the air,  Masking the real truth that lies within  From the unperceptive gaze of the world. Though my years have passed the Biblical span And I am well advanced on the dread path  That leads to senility and decay, And though my limbs are clothed in sagging fl...

It’s on summer nights such as this That I remember so clearly; Sitting in my chair in silence As the daylight fades from the sky And the soft air folds about me Like a soothing blanket of peace.   It’s on gentle nights such as this That I remember so clearly; Looking out across the calm loch To the fell-sides outlined ink black Against the paler indigo Of the star bedecked northern sky.   It’s on special nights such as th...

Standing on the cliff edge early on that spring mornHe watched the sun rise over the rim of the world,Painting the cliffs golden in the clear light of dawn.How he envied the sea birds who with wings unfurledLeft their craggy roosts to soar up into the sky, To float unrestrained on unseen cushions of air,Free as the gentle zephyrs that carried them highAbove his stooping form burdened by age and care. There was a time when...

I am fast approaching the age,— the biblical allocation of three score years and ten,(Although modern medicine means it should be re-evaluated),When my thoughts increasingly turn to the future,And what it might hold before the inevitability of death,— an end that may be postponed, but cannot be prevented.Will it perhaps be my fate to die of cancer like my father,Or will I linger for years in the half-light of dementia,My...

I pray you, do not trample on my dreams. Though you may only see this outer shell, A frail thing of flesh; this outward reality, Is of no greater substance than the air,Masking the real truth that lies withinFrom the unperceptive gaze of the world,Blinded by the harsh glare of common sense. Outwardly I may be on the dread pathThat leads to mortal decay and old age,My limbs may now be clothed in sagging flesh, Where in my...

Jean and I shareThe same visionThe same king.I don't know if old ageOr a family will be granted me,Or if my heart will pour out on the groundIn the great clashWhich will soon be upon us once again.

What if we change What if we stop being us Will we still want us? When we get old… What if I change What if I can’t smile anymore Will you help me smile? When we get old… What if you change What if you stop loving me Will I still love you? When we get old… What if we’re poor What if we have nothing Will we still have us? When we get old… **** My sweetheart, I love you I always will You make me smile. We will never be poor...

I have heard it said, that at my age life is golden.What was meant when these words were spoken? Reaching this time of life, I find to be anything but golden.Old age leaving my body less flexible and somewhat broken. My mind plays tricks, telling me I am still eighteen.Body touts frequently, that I am an antique machine. Looking at my reflection, I now see when into the mirror I peers.Wild hairs growing from the end of my...

She did this every year, so the call came as no surprise. In fact, I had been expecting it for the last few days. The only surprise was that it took so long. I was sitting with my wife having our coffee after dinner when the phone rang. As I got up to answer, my wife gave me a knowing glance but did not say a word. It was as if we both knew instinctively. “Hello.” I started into the phone, “Oh, hi Mom. Yeah, I’d been expe...