Elementary

             ElementaryIMG_20150625_114513[1]

It is no longer elementary,
as time moves on…

From that age of innocence
and its carefree pace
To a greater challenge 
and a larger place
Taking along with it
the simplicity of that age
Anticipation, for the next act
on a ever-growing stage

No longer rudimentary,
as time moves on…IMG_20150625_114610[1]

To the high school years
and all that entails
Forming new friendships
and blazing new trails
Learning how to balance
an education, and the new
An ever-evolving perspective
and an ever-changing you

You’ll find it’s complementary,
as time moves on…

Years that work together
each with a vital role
Then and now, and next
are elements of the wholeIMG_20150625_115003[1]
Experiences and memories
are the parts to your sum
They make you who you are
and who you will become

…as time moves on

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Michael

                  Michael
                                               

Oh red-skied morning
calm before the storm.
A sailor man so gentle
with smiling eyes so warm.Ocean2
The tides of life drift away,
as that lonesome breeze blows,
the loving soul of Michael
to the sea where it flows.

 

Young enough to wonder why
In dreams alone, never deep
Old enough for the grips of what

That echo inside a silent sleep

Submerged inside a growing mind
Unable to fathom loss, or to let him go
Unwilling to accept a new reality
Unable to embrace an empty shadow

 

The sailor man and his river
flow from shore to unfamiliar shore.
While understanding lays dormant
alone, on a bottomless ocean floor.
And the tides of life drift away
as that lonesome breeze blows
the loving soul of Michael
to the sea where it goes.NY Ship

 

Sunshine on mindful waters
reflect an ever-longing light
in the ever fateful flickering
of painful wrong and right

Though easier now to understand,
you were gone far too soon for me
The love of life, however, is forever there
in the image that I will always see

 

Oh red-skied morning,
calm before the storm.
Always there if we need you,
memories of safe and warm.
The tides of life drift away
to a port that no one knows.
The soul of our good man Michael
rides out to the sea where it flows.

 

Carrying me high above it all,Ocean
strong arms to hold me there…
 
until the water reaches land
and I can touch his gentle hand.
 
His kindness and spirit are not gone
because waves move on and on.

G.G. November/87
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