Thursday, June 11, 2009


I am beyond the age of eighty, plagued by more than one disease, I sometimes cannot catch my breath and think this is the onset of something worse than death. But in spite of my fear I'm still here and I ain't going nowhere as long as Medicare and a secondary share the expense of my medical events.

I moan and groan in my bed alone and wait for the call on the telephone from whoever up there or down below is calling to tell me it's time to go. But until when then is now I wait for the night when things are right. I turn off the light, turn on the charm and the chick of seventy-six will be alarmed and so will I, a man of eighty plus who will travel an hour or more by Grayhound bus to a widow's door for a ten minuet blast from my distant past. When I turned eighty I thought my need for a lady would fade. But fhen I met Gwen, a bit younger than me. We even tried the day she died. I miss her and I kiss her in my dreams and it seems she's somewhere waiting for me.

My lover made me realize old agers at any stage can do more than fantasize and romanticize, Behind each worn and wrinkled face, each tender and tenacious embrace, there's a need to hold on to what will soon be gone.

We are never too old to make love or take love wherever it is extended. Befriend a friend unto the end of life on earth, Labor in the art of love for all it's worth. This is what I learned from my love who never turned me down.

Take a chance with another romance if it ever comes around, said she, closed her eyes and set me free to love again. When, how well? Only time will tell. But for now I'll just dwell a while on what love and life meant to her and means to me.

Lovers should love until the day they die, And I will tell you why. Because there's no guarantee he or she will be waiting patiently up there or down below for you to do what you did when you were only twenty-three.


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