The last salute

 He stood on the river bank, watching the retired warship being towed to its final resting place among the others already at rest.

There were no more fierce battles and ports of call where, as a young sailor, he found comfort in a woman he would never see again.

Looking at the rusting ship, he remembered her with fresh paint and the flag flying proudly as they steamed toward yet another battle.

He looked up to the bridge, where he once saw the captain giving orders and officers yelling at kids like him who were scared to death but never wavered in their duties as sailors.

He saw his shipmates operating the guns of war, each shot deafening and leaving your ears ringing sometimes forever.

He watched as the stern became lost in sight as the tug maneuvered the tired lady to her final resting place, where guns were quiet, sailors faded away, and all that she was remembered in the mind of one last crew member who cried openly and without shame.

He saluted the old ship and began to walk away, but not before hearing one final blast of the ship's horn as if she was saying thank you and fair seas to her last remaining sailor.

Mike 2024                                                

I'll be there

 I'm watching over you; that's something you should know.

I'll be right here beside you wherever you may go.

I'll be there for your birthdays, and we'll walk a million miles

I'll sing to your new babies and watch you as they smile.

I'll always be beside you through the good times and the bad

I'll give you peace and comfort because I am your dad.

I'll kiss away your teardrops whenever you feel sad 

I'll plant a distant memory you forgot you even had.

I'll always be close by you to take away your pain

I'll whisper words of comfort in the sunshine and the rain.

I'll always say I love you and hope that you can hear

I'll wait for an eternity and the day you'll join me here.

Mike 2024

                                              

The study

 Silence filled the small room he called his study. He went there when he needed silence so his words would flow smoothly. Outside, the noises of a family carried on without him for a while, at least until his heart had spoken and words put on paper.

There weren't hundreds of books in his study, no certificates of schools attended, or numerous writing awards; just a desk and a chair that looked out of a window into the forest where he got lost until that first word was written.

Sometimes, he'd watch his children play in the backyard, throwing sticks to their dog Skipper, playing hide-and-seek, and playing on their swings, pumping their little legs trying to reach the forest's trees. When they were called inside, he would again look at the trees, a bare canvas for inspiration.

He longed for perfect sentences, and then, like something magical, his pen began a journey that would lead him deep inside his mind and onto paper.

At times, he would go so far back into his memory that he wondered if he'd ever return, leaving him tired and relieved that his mind hadn't been too destroyed by his youth and all he'd ingested in the name of experiment and curiosity. There were moments when he wanted to do those things just one more time, to visit Alice in Wonderland or follow the Yellow Brick Road. But he had a family now, and escaping reality again was too scary.

So he went to his study, the small room once a nursery, and he picked his mind to write about what he saw as he bounced back and forth between reality and a desire to flash back to days in the forest that, for now, he can only look at through a window sitting at his desk looking at the many album covers that took the place of books on the wall. Zeplin, the Stones, The Doors, Jethro Tull, Cream, and more dove headfirst into his mind and have remained a source of his imagination, leading to hundreds of stories, some real and others probably from the deepest part of his mind, that will keep him guessing until the ink runs dry.

Mike 2024                                                

Walking with her

 He walks alone on the beach they once walked on, letting the sand flow between his toes and breathing in the ocean smells. Not many words are spoken as he walks, and she looks for treasures from the sea, always telling him this is the day she will uncover something extraordinary. Every so often, she stops and sifts through the sand, scooping out handfuls and letting it flow out between her fingers with help from an incoming wave. Oh, look, my love, colored glass probably from an old pirate ship hundreds of years ago. A rum bottle, she said, and put it in her pocket to take home, clean, and add to her collection of things found on the beach.

He could see her clearly going about her quest for treasures, letting a tear fall, mixed with the salt water running down his face. Then, he'd find himself alone again except for the memories of their time together and all the adventures they had living a simple life on a beach, her looking for bounty and him looking for her.

Mike 2024                                         

Old friends

 His old guitar leaned against the wall, gathering years of dust. If only it could come out to play one more time. The scars of age were each a reminder of a gig, a concert, and quiet moments in the night when it had to be played. 

He looked at it and felt a closeness, a bond, a friendship that lasted through the years. It was carried around from town to town until it was noticed and heard by some who would make it famous.

But it wasn't the fame. It was because he was a part of a team that sang for the love of playing, so he continued doing gigs in small towns and around campfires, reaching the hearts of those who felt it's every beat and strum like a lullaby to the soul.

It's tired now, like its partner, gathering dust and leaving the music to the younger people, who some say learned from them as they were indeed masters of their craft.

He slowly got up and reached for his old friend, caressing her, wiping away the years of dust, and telling it they had one last song to play. Holding it felt natural as he softly strummed its strings to a song they had written long ago. The music flowed out the window and was heard by a group sitting around a campfire who began to sing along, never missing a note or a chorus.

They did like us, my friend, he said as he set it back, leaning against the wall, waiting for the dust of time to rest on both of them.

Mike 2024                                 

                  

Silent keys

 He sat at his desk deep in thought, trying to find the words to best describe his love for her, but the keys were silent. He tried to remember all she meant to him over the years, all he wanted to write to her, but the keys remained silent.

 He wanted to tell her all she meant to him and how just thinking of life without her made a hole in his heart that could never be healed. But still, the keys were silent.

Then, a memory of their first kiss came to mind, and he could close his eyes and taste her lips. He remembered asking her to be his wife and how she cried with tears of happiness. He remembered being by her side when their first child was born and how they cried together.

Then the keys came to life as one memory after another found its way to his fingers, and the keys sang out like their favorite song. He smiled, knowing his memories awakened the silent keys, as everything he wanted to say to her flowed like a river running straight from his heart.

Mike 2024                                     

 

God rest her soul

 His steps were slow, almost a shuffle. Even the most basic actions required concentration. He was often grateful for the small house. 

He made it to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee that would last a couple of hours before he brewed another. It kept him awake, allowing him to live the day on his own terms and not fall asleep every time he sat down. He didn't care much his trousers were stained with things that never made it to his mouth, a menu of meals past.

He turned on a stove burner and heated his wife's iron skillet—God rest her soul. He cracked two eggs into the pan and made his way to the toaster in just enough time to get back to the stove and turn off the burner. He had known for a while now how to time things at his pace. He put the eggs on a plate and got the toast slightly burnt but he would scrape some of it off. His neighbor gave him a jar of peach jam, which he used sparingly to make it last.

By the time he sat down and began to eat, he was already tired, but the wait was worth it. One more cup of coffee and the other half of a partially smoked cigarette completed his first meal of the day—and maybe his last if the caffeine didn't work. He made his way to the sink and washed his plate and wiped out the iron pan the way she showed him God rest her soul. 

Time didn't matter to him anymore. He just let his growling stomach tell him when to eat. He went to the kitchen window and watered her favorite plant, which he somehow managed to keep alive. He figured it was her doing, and he smiled.

He managed to get through most of his day as daylight faded and the house got dark. He turned on a small light that lit the way upstairs, looking at the pictures of the family they hung on the wall from the bottom to the top. Hed stop on every step remembering when all of them were taken during the happiest times of his life.

He sat on the edge of their bed, one they had shared for sixty-seven years, and his tears began to flow. Lying in that bed, he thought of her, and how deeply he loved her, hoping someday soon, they would reunite for eternity. 

But until that day, he would go through the motions of cooking eggs in her iron skillet, watering her favorite plant, and hoping she didn't see him smoking. God rest her soul.

Mike 2024                                         

 

A million miles away

 I know you see me from a million miles away. I sense your presence almost always. I know you hear me when I say your name in a song, and sometimes I swear a cloud is smiling.

It seems like yesterday you left me, but decades have passed, and my broken heart stays broken. Maybe I don't want it to mend so I can still miss you as much as the day I said goodbye

I know you see me from a million miles away, and I see you in every memory that fills my heart. One day, we will look down on the place that was a whistle-stop to eternity and look together.

Mike 2024                           

        

Autumn remembered

 Soon, the mornings will be cool as leaves explode in beauty. The corn fields will be harvested, and children will pick pumpkins, leaving the rest for the earth to take back. There were always Sunday drives to capture the beauty etched in my mind that lasted a lifetime. Children jump into piles of raked leaves, sometimes joined by parents. While pumpkins are carved and set on the porch, waiting to glow by candlelight.

Bonfires and smores, hot apple cider, and pumpkin pies fill the air as only they can. Dozens of trick-or-treaters walk the sidewalks as parents guide the way with flashlights, telling the smallest goblins to hold out their bags.

Sweaters are pulled from dresser drawers, and jeans replace shorts for another few months. Yard furniture is stored in the garage, and lawnmowers are replaced with snow blowers as winter draws near.

Autumn brings so many pleasures and anticipations of what awaits around the corner, but that's tomorrow. Today, we will watch as the colorful leaves begin their slow journey, falling off the trees in a sort of dance and coming to rest on the soon-to-be-frozen ground.

It's my favorite season, and I take in as much as possible to get me through the harshness of what awaits as winter softly knocks but not for long. 

Mike 2024