The sun
may call in sick sometime,

Gray clouds
may permeate for days without a sign,

But rain
or shine,

The skies
though in great heights apart
remain faithful to seas–keepers of wishes and memories–
all the time.

Knitted words
may sound obtuse,

Stringing notes
may be low and loose,

But be
in FM or iTunes, an old song will play,

And eyes
will end in haze
for an old feeling
about to resurface.

Photographs, letters
may end up in pieces,

Promises, vows
may be broken,

But to
memories all real are bound and committed,

They are
the dwellers of pillows
and old songs
keepers listen.

Featured Song: Old Songs,
by Barry Manilow

(Courtesy of YouTube)

https://youtube/zDvLGQJB54E

I can never be somebody–not even a germ.

I can always be under anybody–unworthy of nobody.

A dust can bury me alive.

A gasp can blow me and strip me of dignity.

Casper can question my character.

Poltergeist can mock my existence.

A tear can wash away my dreams.

A frown can bring me to my knees.

Fear is. . .

. . . the smith of our Pinocchio lives perfect-fitting caskets to our own demise.

. . . the root of all hate.

The father of all evils. . .

The mother of all falterings. . .

. . . making peace impossible. . .

. . . making love fail. . .

. . . the worst disease of our minds;

. . . the very norm in the wilds.

Fear is the only enemy of mankind.

World could have been a better place,

If only fear didn’t get in our ways.