Unchanged.

Days pass one by one,

marked on the calender,

as I wait.

As the time goes by,

and seasons change,

I hope you return to 

me,

the same as when you left

me.

Not older, your face

creased by the sun.

Your hair powdered

gray.

Your heart, unhardened

by a thousand slights, still

tender for me.

                 Virginia Reid

            Near Miss

He was so close, but she missed him.

For some reason, she didn’t see him.

He was too close.

She should have known he was there, felt

the warmth of his presence, so near.

But, before she knew it, he was gone.

                              Virginia Reid

He has placed her between the pages of his life.
Not like a wife.
If there is room left at the bottom of the page, he thinks of her.
He never calls first. He thinks she has nothing else to do.
Walking to her door, a page falls out
of his open pocket.
It falls to the ground, to be stepped on
by the cat.

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     Poets should never go anywhere without a poem. Before you leave the house. pick up one of your poems , fold it up, put it in your pocket or your purse and be on your way. Of course,  these days you probably will have a poem on your smart phone. Whatever works for you.

      Good morning,  I hope I’m not being too dramatic. But, lately I’ve’ become really involved with my Twitter and Facebook accounts. Now, first let me explain  myself. I was one of those diehards who had resisted the Tweeting FB’ing fever. But, I must admit to the pleasure of FB, and the thrill of every Retweet! It’s all there, the furtive glances, the intense planning, the alibis. It’s got it all.

Good morning,    

       I just went to the front door to pick up my newspaper. I looked up and down the block.  As far as I could see, there were no other newspapers. It got me to thinking. Was I the last “newspaper reader” left on my block?  I can remember years ago, there would be a newspaper on the top step, or in the yard, depending on the paperboy or girl’s aim. No more. I guess everyone is reading the paper on their laptop or their tablet. At least, I hope so. Maybe they have given up on reading the newspaper altogether. 

Had my first cup of coffee, the first of many. I would hate to have to start the day without coffee. I’ve had to do it a few times and I was miserable. I’m still working on the current draft of one of my projects.

Good morning,

     I often write my first drafts in long hand. I know that some people might consider this method old fashioned but I find that my ideas flow better this way. Sometimes I will get an idea and I’ll grab a note book and start writing before the idea gets away from me. I start all of my poems this way. What do you think? Does anybody else still write in long-hand? I bet there are a lot of you out there.