I’d rather spoon with Nancy
than run marathons like I used to,
or write a poem like I’m doing now,
but, Nancy’s
working on her business news.

To feel hers against mine,the fine, warm pressure,
beginnings of what there are remnants left.
Sometimes, with a helpful blue pill persuader,
remainders rise to full blown reality that can, still.

Thanks, again, Lord.

We are most of what we were,
only we appreciate it more,
having learned life is
quick silver,
time,
a tease,
Sunday mornings,
made to please.