a few favorites...

I like poems.  But like everything else, my tastes run kind of eclectic. It could be one by Bronte, or Browning, or Dickinson, or it could just as easily be one written by a kid on the bus or a retreatant in the cafeteria.  Guess what I'm trying to say is that if it *says* something to me, then I love it.  It becomes one of those serendipitous events where the universe finally got through to me.  And believe me, I'm not the easiest person to get through to.  I'm guessing that in today's busy world, not many of us are 'receptive' to much... too much going on around us all the time. Perhaps now in our retirement years, the pace has slackened a bit... enough to take the time to 'ponder' words that mean something to us. 

Anyway, that was a long winded way of saying that this is one of my old favorites:

Growing Old

The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer'

The headstones thicken along the way

And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger

For those who walk with us day by day

The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower;

The courage is lesser to do and dare;

And the tide of joy in the heart falls lower, 

And seldom covers the reefs of care.

But all true things in the world seem truer,

And the better things of earth seem best,

And friends are dearer, as friends are fewer,

And love is all as our sun dips west.

Then let us clasp hands as we walk together,

And let us speak softly in low, sweet tone,

For no man knows on the morrow whether

We two pass on - or but one alone.

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox

and

another of my favorites:

Outwitted

He drew a circle that shut me out -

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But Love and I had the wit to win;

We drew a circle that took him in!

-Edwin Markham

I started this post a day or so ago, then got interrupted by a migraine...  and then another (this was a first... one coming right on the heals of the other). But anyway, yesterday evening was miserable, but this morning things seem clear again.  I hate it when my head and eyes go wonky... (one always fears that they may never return back to normal).  But alas, they have... or almost so.  Head is always a little achy the next day, but not too bad... at least I can see and think straight again.

i was planning to talk a bit more about poems, but now have lost the thread.  Sorry.  Perhaps a cup of coffee would help.