Modigliani Pause

Modigliani-sgPainting: Modigliani.

So, we must laugh before that day may come;

before that twilight leaves us little choice

when both will mourn our last day in the sun

when colder silence muffles all our voice.

Yet greet me now; be kind before the fall.

Accept our hours together precious few

with no resentment for each time I call

with no assessment I am stressing you.

So many words,  unspoken,  stall mid-air.

They cause a pause become a gulf  between.

Make use of precious hours we might share.

Instead, you’re here, yet turn away, unseen.

I speak, apart,  but do not wish to be

so distant only forest hears my plea.

Happy Birthday To Me

Happy Birthday (to me)

The sun that shone and opened up today

reminds me of cold fate’s unceasing shore.

I see her many suns have had their sway

as now my skin sags low at eighty-four.

My birthday card now comes from stranger’s hands

as day revolves to night and time still thrives;

as those who loved me flown from life’s demands

now seek to make my candles eighty-five.

Still, happiness is candles flickering 

the sun that peeps through blinds in early morn

and all the bright lights on my cake I proudly sing

before the dark of eighty-five is born.

Oh, happy to survive our human fate

than travel through strange worlds andcropped-colorado-19731-e1444166494509darker gate.

(photo: me about 1970, Colorado Springs, Colorado.  I place the same poem here, as last year.  I must only change the lines and rhymes where my age changes.)