Posts tagged aging

Winter Alone

IMG_0050-crop

I listen to a cold wind blowing-

ice crystals like music,

ring against my windows.

The quiet disturbs me,

even as I read a well loved book,

sip hot tea, remember…

Winter-with its chill enveloping me,

with the whistling of the wind,

seems so much colder without you.

I remember days, when we cuddled

the warmth of our bodies dispelled the cold.

The wind and ice was almost comforting.

It made me realize that I was warm,

in spite of the cold, the blowing wind,

ice crystals decorating the trees outside.

I wonder where those days have gone?

You are in one room, me in another.

We barely speak. This is not love.

We look around and see nothing better,

nothing more enticing than simply home,

a familiar place, warm under electric blankets.

Over thirty years and what are we?

A couple-maybe from the eyes of others.

We are just two people in one house.

I cannot even imagine it being any better,

for us to cuddle, to whisper sweet words.

So this is how it ends? Together, alone.

Could I love again? Could you?

Would we even want to take the chance?

Or would we rather just lay safely?

Knowing how love hurts, how loss hurts

and not being willing to a the risk?

Dreaming of “what if?” but never finding out.

listen to a cold wind blowing-

ice crystals like music,

Winter Alone

I listen to a cold wind blowing-

ice crystals like music,

ring against my windows.

The quiet disturbs me,

even as I read a well loved book,

sip hot tea, remember…

Winter-with its chill enveloping me,

with the whistling of the wind,

seems so much colder without you.

I remember days, when we cuddled

the warmth of our bodies dispelled the cold.

The wind and ice was almost comforting.

It made me realize that I was warm,

in spite of the cold, the blowing wind,

ice crystals decorating the trees outside.

I wonder where those days have gone?

You are in one room, me in another.

We barely speak. This is not love.

We look around and see nothing better,

nothing more enticing than simply home,

a familiar place, warm under electric blankets.

Over thirty years and what are we?

A couple-maybe from the eyes of others.

We are just two people in one house.

I cannot even imagine it being any better,

for us to cuddle, to whisper sweet words.

So this is how it ends? Together, alone.

Could I love again? Could you?

Would we even want to take the chance?

Or would we rather just lay safely?

Knowing how love hurts, how loss hurts

and not being willing to a the risk?

Dreaming of “what if?” but never finding out.

ring against my windows.

Warmth from the roaring flames

growing lower, the crackling quieter now.

just embers, flashing from the fireplace.

The quiet comforts me,IMG_0050-crop

Winter Alone

I listen to a cold wind blowing-

ice crystals like music,

ring against my windows.

The quiet disturbs me,

even as I read a well loved book,

sip hot tea, remember…

Winter-with its chill enveloping me,

with the whistling of the wind,

seems so much colder without you.

I remember days, when we cuddled

the warmth of our bodies dispelled the cold.

The wind and ice was almost comforting.

It made me realize that I was warm,

in spite of the cold, the blowing wind,

ice crystals decorating the trees outside.

I wonder where those days have gone?

You are in one room, me in another.

We barely speak. This is not love.

We look around and see nothing better,

nothing more enticing than simply home,

a familiar place, warm under electric blankets.

Over thirty years and what are we?

A couple-maybe from the eyes of others.

We are just two people in one house.

I cannot even imagine it being any better,

for us to cuddle, to whisper sweet words.

So this is how it ends? Together, alone.

Could I love again? Could you?

Would we even want to take the chance?

Or would we rather just lay safely?

Knowing how love hurts, how loss hurts

and not being willing to a the risk?

Dreaming of “what if?” but never finding out.

Love is an ember now, but Ice is still cold.

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The Meaning of the Word

The sprinkling of soft snow through ancient pines-remember?

The ice sparkling on the lake like mirrored glass-remember?

Your gloved hand touching mine for the time-remember?

Those days seem so close, as if I could reach out and touch them, yet my heart knows that time has passed and life has changed, you are there and I am here, We were young and now are old. Still, somehow, that day, that place that touch will remain with me forever. It truly defines the word-remember.

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Ornate Memories

“Oh, my!” she smiled as she gently touched the ruffled feathers of the plant. “An orchid! They are so ornate!”

“I thought you might like it, Grandma.” Ellen smiled as her grandmother touched the petals as if they were made of the finest gold.”

“For our first anniversary, your grandfather bought me an orchid. It had white petals with delicate curves of violet at their edge. He remembered how I had loved orchids my entire life.” She sighed.

Her eyes closed, a smile on her face. Ninety seven years old, her mind still sharp. She was the definition of ornate.

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I Close my Eyes

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The flight of life, all I am or hope to be. I close my eyes.

I am a child, turning as I look for signs of growing up,

then a teen, swirling in front of a mirror,

dreaming of college, midnights out, no curfew.

Suddenly, I awake to the sound of wedding music

and then a baby cries as I shake my head.

The laundry awaits, my feet hurt.

Life, where is it going, it used to seems so slow.

Now I’m bandaging skinned knees, paying mortgages.

I see my teen swirling in front of a mirror.

I find myself looking at the obituaries in the paper.

I notice a little gray in my husbands hair.

Graduations, weddings, then accidents, surgeries,

my back hurts when I garden all day, the house needs repair.

I cry at the tombstones of my parents,

suddenly becoming aware of my own age,

Life, speeding by at the speed of light.

Computers have replaced the written word.

I feel outdated, like I don’t belong here anymore.

Struggling to keep up, I feel the desperation of loosing my edge.

Yesterday, I was young, had hope, dreams, health.

I remember whirling in the wind beneath the moon,

Oceans waves crashing behind me, the bright lights of town

glowing distantly, calling to me, “Come, live, love!”

Now it is nighttime, winter, cold and bare.

The dreams have been fulfilled or died long ago.

I try to imagine where it all went, how it got away,

A tear rolls down a weathered cheek. I close my eyes once more.

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Estate Sale

Copyright-Ted Strutz

Today, an estate sale sign sat in the yard of my childhood friend. Thirty years ago, we all loved to go to Katie’s house. Wonderful memories filled my heart.

I stopped and walked in the door to the sale. It was as if I had gone back in time. Picking a few things that I remembered, I paid for them and returned to my car.

My hands were shaking. How quickly life goes by. Those treasures now sit on my mantle. What will happen to them if, one day, an estate sale sign sits in front of my house?

Comments (20) »