Olivia

 A 2003 VW Beetle: Cyber green

Turbo sports model with a stick shift

and  a lot of ZIP.

Small, round, compact but full of sass—

But  also full of class

with heated black leather seats

trimmed in cyber green.

Recognized when seen among

Behomoth-filled traffic.

Flash from head to toe: 

Floor mats and wheels

Trimmed in Cyber green too

Nicknamed Olivia for looking like a green olive 

from the rear with red pimento lights.

A spoiler unfurled to remind the driver

she's going too fast in the residential hood.

At stop lights, Titans looked down on 

the grey haired long-time owner,

but when the light changed to green

she left those giants in the dust

A green spotted bug whirligig

twirled in the bud vase until it

whirled out of the vase once too many.

Recently a red-headed driver:

The talk of SLU for squeezing into 

tight empty parking places.

Nick-named Booger and Buggie.

But, now being held together with

Zip Ties—-how appropriate for the car

That Zipped into parking spaces and at 

Green lights is now Zipped together.

At the end of her life-span,

Can she be in a Hollywood film?

Please let it be a Thelma and Louise scene:

Flying over a cliff, out with a bang.

And not limping into

a retirement home of junked cars.

McCrite Love

I came to McCrite broken:

weary from care-giving,

limping with sciatica,

emotionally drained.

But, here at McCrite, I found love:

the love of a neighbor checking in on me,

the love of a work out buddy who said, 

“Have a Good Day”,

the love from a resident welcoming me with a goody bag 

that included the Cardinal schedule,

the love of people in the dining rooom inviting us to join them.

the love of friends who prayed for me and Dave

the love of a support group that helped dry my tears

Now, it is my turn to return that love

with a poem or two,

a welcoming smile,

with a listening ear, and

a hug,

with a laugh at breakfast or happy hour, or

a birthday card slipped in the door.

The people at McCrite

found all of my pieces 

and helped me re-assemble myself

I’m not the same person but a new and improved version of myself.

thank you.

April 2026

Tomorrow's Back

 I have my tomorrows back. . . 

I had only lived for today. .. . 

with hesitation.

I hadn’t been alone for a while.

I grieved the loss of tomorrows

with someone I loved being with.

I was a little afraid to take a step by myself:

of breaking out of my safe coccon

You reminded me how much I loved

dancing and singing: 

It re-awakened the joy buried in my heart.

Now I can look forward to  tomorrow

With a spring in my step

a smile on my face

and love in my eyes

To have a companion to dance with and sing with,

To discuss a book with,

To collaborate on songs with

Means everything to me: 

I feel With not Without.

I love that you share your past and let me share mine.

We are what we have been

And can’t be seen without that.

I feel a little bare having revealed so much of myself

But it was necessary for a new beginning.

Shedding my cocoon, I’m fluttering my wings:

Still a little afraid to take flight,

 but soon.

Thank you for sharing your path. . .

helping me find mine.

Intertwined

 My poetry, his chords

healing us—

15 years are a long time to wait

for intimate conversation

about our feelings, our losses, our lives

Sharing our needs

with each other

after so many years of hiding them 

to attend to spouses’ needs.

Now, with support

I feel alive again---

Ready to see the world

through someone else’s lens.

Ready to laugh with someone

about life’s ironies.

Ready to face aging

holding hands:

Vines intertwined for strength.

What seemed impossible—-

insurmountable alone,

Now is manageable together.

Never too Old

 

Will I ever be too old to dream. . . .

too old to wonder what could be,

what tomorrow will bring.

My body may ache 

I may move more slowly

but my heart is still growing 

although sometimes it misses a beat.

Despite cataracts, my eyes see clearly

To see those who need a touch, a whisper,

a laugh

I’m not too old to dance

mostly in a chair not taking a chance. . . 

But moving my body to the music

takes me back when these feet 

could dance all night long.

I’m not too old to sing

perhaps at a lower tone

but I’m still singing.

I’d rather sing a little off key, reaching for notes

than to just listen to music.

My body may have a few pounds but it can still

Move to the sounds.

My balance sometimes falters but 

I’d rather dance with a walker

or in a chair

than to never dance at all.

I’d rather dream and hope, rather than

be in  a  television trance:

seeing the world in black and white.

I’d rather touch and be touched, 

laughing with friends,

than to be cozy and comfy on my couch.  . .

alone.

I’m still dreaming

growing

seeing

dancing

singing

Schussing and Waltzing

On sunny snowy days, 

I do still dream of skiing down a snow-covered hill

Breathing in the cold air and 

basking in the warmth of the sun.

I can’t ski anymore and even worry about walking in the snow,

but I’m not too old to sit outside on a sunny day.

With snow all around me

and my breath

unfurling in the frigid air.

My memories keep me warm

on this chilly January day.

The drive to ski slopes

over-dressed for the chill 

of waiting in a lift line

was all worth it.

With my first breath of air at the top of a mountain. . . 

and the “Schuss” down a hill.. .

flying

soaring throught the snow.

Then I zig-zag across the slope

not to go slowly

but for the run 

to last longer.

I also dream of dancing with my love in a ballroom

Dipping and gliding to an orchestra playing a walz

A final spin into his arms, eyes locked. . . .

Sitting at a cloth covered table with candles

drinking wine 

while holding hands. . 

Not talking, just absorbing the magic.

Don’t tell me I get no benefit from memories.

Memories allow me to relive magical moments

of my life. 

And, they remind me

there are more memories to be made,

if I reach out and take a chance.

And, it’s all right for me to just sit in the sun

or 

in a chair for a dance. . . 

remembering