As they watch the old man walk by each day at his slow but steady pace

They often comment on his peculiar gait…or the smile on his face.


They wonder what he’s up to…they certainly want it known

who the old man might be talking to as he walks by on his own.


If they ask him…he would tell them…as he is walking through…

His wife, who he misses every day, is who he’s is talking to.


How they used to walk each morning together…along this very way

and how he loves to fill her in on all that happened yesterday.


He would tell them not to worry…and he’d certainly want it known


the reason for his smile is…he never walks alone.

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The lone rose never asked for much

and never once complained…

She was happy when the sunlight reached her

and when her petals filled with rain.


She grew outside the young girls window

and always found a way

to stand a little straighter

when the young girl smiled her way.


Not once did the young girl forget her… 

for every day she chose

to open her window, smile, wave

and say, “Good Morning!” to her rose.


And they were happy with their relationship…

It made the girl and her rose glow…

until the change of seasons

and the fall winds began to blow..


Soon it would be winter

When her single rose would die

and so the young girl and the rose

prepared to say goodbye.


“What can I do for you?” The young girl asked

“since you’ve given so much to me?

The rose had but one request 

“Can you take me to the sea?”


“I’ve seen the sun, the moon the stars

I’ve seen the birds the trees and more…

but I would love once before I’m gone

if I could see the shore.”


And so they traveled to the shore

to where the ocean meets the sky…

and here they sat and watched the waves


and it was here they said goodbye.

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He watched her put her feet into the water

as she sat upon the shore…

and he began to see her 

as he never had before.


He always thought she was beautiful

but seated by her side

with her face reflected in the water

he saw her beauty multiplied.


And in that very moment

(until then he hadn’t thought about it much)

he saw how she was like the water

soft and gentle to the touch.


He felt the magic in the water 

as it changed from colors green and blue

and he felt that same magic in her voice

her eyes

and in her smile too


And it made him smile as they sat there

together by the shore…

for he knew just like the water 


she was filled with mysteries to explore.

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He loved her with all his heart

which made him wonder how would he ever know

when it's time to say goodbye

when it's time to let her go?


He was thinking about their life together

when his heart let out a sigh

as he knelt down and held her hand he wondered...

Was it was time to say goodbye?


He sat there with her hand in his

in silence for a while

until he noticed from her eyes…a tear

and on her lips…a smile.


He leaned over whispered, “I love you.”

then gently kissed her on her head.

"I will always love you.” 

are the last words she ever said.


Suddenly the answer came to him

as his tears began to flow…

He found the strength to say goodbye


knowing he will never let her go.

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I love how life in the midst of its wars, its killings, 

its behaviors so thoughtless and vile

will set set aside a moment every now and then

a moment to make us smile.


Little Women is a popular book- 

I had just sold one of the two new ones we acquired 

when a little woman came up to the counter

“Do you have Little Women?” She inquired.


“I believe there is still one left.” I said

as I led her through the store…right to it.

Then I walked back to the counter 

as she began leafing through it.


No sooner had I returned to the counter

in the ten seconds that it took

when another little woman, younger than the first, 

asked for that same book.


“We have one copy left.” I said.

There was no reason to deny it.

“But there is another woman who just came in

and I think she want’s to buy it.”


“I’ve never read it and was hoping you had it.” The woman frowned

“My mom said I’d adore it.

Let me at this other woman.” she said jokingly

“I will gladly fight her for it.”


“Here comes the woman now.” I said

“I’m sorry we don’t have another.”

Then the woman at the counter smiled…

“No need to…that’s my mother!”


They smiled…they hugged…they took a step back

and gave each other a look…

“Hey, the mother said holding it up.

“Can you believe I found your book?”


The mother bought the book for her daughter

They left the store hand in hand…

And I thought how some of the most special moments in life

are the ones that go unplanned….


Like how one book could illustrate a mother’s and daughter’s love

right in front of me…

and as two little women left the store…I smiled


thinking Louisa May Alcott would agree.


They were the perfect couple

like two colors of one flame

both a little different

both a little bit the same


She was a bright yellow

sparks from her would fly

flashing for a moment 

before disappearing in the sky


His color burned as bright

but with its own distinctive hue.

it was a little more restrained

being the color blue


She had no trouble saying , “I love you.”

without reservations

without fears.

Her words flashing for a moment

before resting on his ears.


Though he felt his love as strongly

his words wouldn’t alway rise

yet she heard them in his smile

and saw them in his eyes


They were the perfect couple

two colors in the night

two colors creating one love

one flame


forever burning bright.

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I have been fortunate to witness many forms of love in my life

sometimes I feel as if I’m living in a storybook

because, like the pages in a fairy tale,

love is everywhere I look.


Take the other day in a restaurant

Love was there for me to see

In a father and his daughter…

who were sitting across from me.


I’m certainly no expert…

but when it comes to love…I have seen much…

enough to recognize it in a daughter’s hug…

and the gentleness of a father’s touch. 


Enough to know its grandeur…

its shape, 

its charm…

the beauty of its style

as I saw it carved upon their faces 

and etched upon their smiles.


Enough to see when a father and daughter sat together…

how delightfully they synthesized

Enough to watch their love rise up

and rest within their eyes


And though I did not listen in

(It was not for me to hear)

I saw love pass between them

When she whispered in his ear.


Once again I was in the presence of love.

It never fails to astound me…

It seems wherever I am…if I open my eyes

love…is all around me.


For when she whispered in her father’s ear

when I watched a beautiful moment shared

As I sat there…in that restaurant

I knew



is everywhere.

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My mom loved to mix her imagination with reality

which meant her stories had a few twists 

I called her world Dreamality…making her a dreamalist.


I remember one night when I was young 

We were sitting outside…just her…and me

“Close your eyes.” She said, “and when you open them 

your star will be the first one that you see."


“That star was created when you were born…

when you became my son

It was placed up in the heavens to announce 

a new life has begun.”


“See how it is beating…it matches the beating of your heart…

Those stars beating brightest are the new ones

while those whose beats are fading are preparing to depart.


“Your star remains aglow until the day you die.” She said.

“for our stars are nothing if not precise

at which point it will swoop down and carry your soul to paradise?”


I imagine Mom was wise enough to understand the science of light diffusion

how the brightness and the beating of the stars is just an optical illusion…


I imagine she understood how meteoroids 

are just burning bits of dust and rock…quite small 

And, scientifically speaking, are not shooting stars at all.


But that did not deter her from believing her story in totality

(now you begin to understand my mom’s world of Dreamality).


Mom’s star burned out years ago and, yes, I consider it quite nice

to think it swooped down from above and carried her soul to paradise.


Many nights I still greet my star…

it’s something I can’t resist.

I regard it as a gift...given to me long ago, 


by my Mom, the dreamalist.

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We use to walk together…in the mountains…by the sea

before the sun would rise each day…my golden retriever…and me


We chose to name him Whitman…people assumed we loved poetry

and though we do love a good rhyme…he was named after a bakery.


He was soft and warm and beautiful inside…to us he was a dream

Is it any wonder we chose to name him after a donut filled with cream?


When we would take our walks in the early morning breeze

I would look up at the stars in the sky while Whitman sniffed grass and trees.


My view from atop my two legs was different than what he saw on four

and I never could determine which one of us enjoyed it more.


It’s been many years now since those walks we had to abort

because as any pet owner knows a dogs life is too short


Still today as I began my walk in the cool, crisp morning air

I know this is not possible but I saw Whitman standing there.


He was young…the way he once was…without a leash and free

and before I knew it I could feel him…walking next to me.


I’m not sure I ever enjoyed a walk more than in today’s early morning breeze

I noticed how the moon was full while Whitman sniffed grass and trees.


When we got home I wanted to thank him as we walked across our lawn

but when I looked down to tell him…I was alone…Whitman was gone.


I was left with a smile and a memory and the lesson he taught me today….


How those we love, even when they’re gone, are never far away

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