Fifty

And where was my soul when they went away and didn't call?
        The transition from we to me
        From six pork chops to two.
        Downsizing from a family to a couple again
        How words crisply define my being
        My groping around trying to find myself again
        "the empty nest syndrome—
        Deep sighs, a crying jag
        Now it's over
        I'm me again
        More character in my face
        Inside... simply 18 again—
        Ready to face life anew but with a wealth of experience
        Now I'm invincible
        I'm wonder woman
        Newly wed again to my own special hero
        Best wishes to me!
        It doesn't matter if they "don't call"
        I've found my soul
        It never left

The Train Ride

Pulling out of Penn Station
        A small roll and start
        Unexpectedly the whistle blew
        It seems silly
        But I had forgotten the sound
        Of the train whistle
        Like a happy fog horn
        Travel, adventure
        And anticipating seeing my family
        Railways go thru the interesting part of towns
        By stadiums, tenements and warehouses
        Piles upon piles of coal
        We see the back of Americana
        Where industry begins her day
        Across canals and rivers
        Pictures of life you see out the window
        Whizz by
        Gone forever in an instant
        Like life, like time
        Surprising to see new apartments
        Where old tenements used to be
        Refreshing
        Coming into the station it is all Amtrak
        Looking very neat
        The trip over I see my son!
        The train ride a pleasant memory

The Train 2

        I am sitting here on this train
        The monotone drone and clack
        What a blessing is this train
        Getting me here and there anonymously
        Doing its job
        I am amidst a thousand stories
        The lives of persons unknowns
        Only seen for a moment
        As they get on and off
        The old black woman with the tall retarded boy
        The four tourist from Maryland
        Full of laughter and enjoyment
        The two ladies finished shopping
        With bags full of things bought
        The man asleep in a crumpled suit
        Tie undone
        A hard day

Poets of Old

Poets of old could wax and wane about many subjects.
        Their lives were amidst silence.
        Without the constant barrage of noise of now.
        We have to squeeze out thoughts between CNN and FOX.
        They seem to be under told.
        They had the whisper of a breeze
        The trickle of water in a brook
        Your own heart beating
        Raindrops pattering on the window pane
        The crackle of a fire
        The touch of the wafting aroma of flowers
        On the air
        Daring images of love
        Knights protecting their honor
        The love emanating from strict times
        Melancholy males bewailing their fate
        To think of a passage without interrupt
        Muse and ideas abounding
        Mental clarity at its best
        No dings or rings to interfere
        Is life better now?