The days grow longer, as I seem to weaken,
I have not the strength nor stamina
To do the spring cleaning,
Raking, digging and mowing.


I just stand and look, watching the grass blades sway,
The clouds race across the sky as the wind does howl.
Then I smile as a small critter I see,
Dashing across the corral to the woodpile.


Mother dove does sit in the bird feeder
As if holding court,
Other birds come, feed, and leave,
Well except for Sassy Blue Jay.


The sights and sound of spring I see,
Oh how I do so feel them.
Cool, warm, hot and cold,
I do stand looking and do think.


Will this be my last spring,
Will I be gone before another one?
Will I see the fall and changing leaves,
Will I see Mrs. Dove again next spring?


So much work to do, and I just stand and watch.
Tomorrow, yes tomorrow, some work I will do,
Start slowly and try to get it done,
Canít have company with the place looking like this.


So I turn and don my coat,
Then slowly began to do some work.
Gosh, on one hand I hate it,
But really I do this love.



NOTE: No, there is nothing wrong with me, my brain is not fried, I just write as I think a friend might think as he faces his own fate.




© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)










Watch these pages for more poems by Tom.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.


Whispers In The Wind

The Mighty Mississippi

Reach For The Stars

Ahhh, Childhood Days

Sunrise, Sunset

April In Paris


And.......for many others, click the index image.



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