Adventure’s End

The journey brings back, strings of wampum.

A belt telling stories, projecting memories.

Moments portrayed in coloured beads.

A summer’s experience, in southern Ontario,

 they are the reads in wampum belt beads.

They bring to life, once again,

so many moments, so many memories.

During these current moments,

what will be savored from those moments ?

 

B. J. “A ” 2

October 20^th 2014

 Four empty years

- Filled With –

Four life times have slipped away.

Left, this barren, a broken plane

 remaining in the throes, locked in,

 great moments, in memories hoard.

where all of one’s life is stored.

 Living, once was never bored.

 

Four life times have slipped away

since that fateful, Thanksgiving day.

Roses wither, peddles fall,

surrendering to fates call.

 Experiences should fade,

all the adventures should be staid.

 

Four life times have slipped away,

memories permeate, upon the heart, they play.

Four is the number deeply carved into the trunk

of this tired old body, a mind in a funk,

a heart desiring, laying in the mist of that time

where memories of moments are so sublime.

 

Four life times have slipped away.

The original life, hanging on so tightly,

never letting go, not even slightly

as it flies aimlessly between then,

on broken wings, and when.

Where hope, the healer, could mend.

 

Four life times have slipped away.

Wild horses cannot drag these memories,

from this barren plane, locked in the fray,

between those moments and todays realities.

The road has been rough and long.

The road has been, I have not been strong

 

Four life times have slipped away.

The road seems to go on for eternity.

The load has been heavy, no remedy

for all this self-imposed insanity.

The load weighed me down, I shed many tears

during these long and winding, four years

 

Four life times have slipped away.

For many a day I did pray.

Alas, they were not but shooting stars.

Like memories, they streaked across the heavens

of my memories hoard, brilliant beams of light

lighting up all the dark places that have permeated.

 

The four life times that have slipped away.

Shooting stars come, shooting stars go,

as life time’s come, and life time’s go,

each leaving an impression across the skies

as you have done so many time upon my eyes

even if just for a moment, before, for you it dies

 

Four life times have slipped away.

You opened so many glorious doors,

sent forth all those beautiful stars,

for a moment, burn out, then gone.

Unlike them my Dear, you do,

not fade from my minds view.

 

B. J. “A” 2

October 20^th 2014