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AND I WONDER-updated

I regret the days I left behind
And the years lost on foolish things.
I’m sorry for the angry words
Turning smiles to tears
And my heart sinks in memory
When it’s only ghosts I see

I sorrow for the tomorrows that would be mine.
And I worry what will become of me
As I decline.
I wonder where they all have gone
And I do suffer to be the last one….

Editing stage: 


Always the first. Joe thinking of you and with spirit of love and affection always.

May I.. Just my take that is here:

I regret the days I left behind
Vanished years of foolish things
I am sorry for those angry words
Turning the smiles to tears
As my heart sinks in memory
When there are only ghosts I see

I sorrow for morrows that would be mine.
As of worry what will become of me
With my decline
I wonder where they all have gone
And I so too suffer to be the last one….

Oh Che Bello Joe you are not alone. I am awake and came in here. Did not even want to mess with it but thought I would add or subtract my thoughts on your poetic write here. You are thinking alot I see and yes I too. THere is so much time to reflect when one is in the down mode of illness and then again it helps to determine or rationalize just really what really is important in life. You said it here and you are not alone in your thoughts. Never

Love Mona

Ti rngrazio,amica mia per i tuoi sentimenti cosi belli
Your suggestons make a beautiful poem but the expressions n the re -write do not reflect my manner of writing , albeit both versions are noteworthy.



author comment

Your manner of writing - respected just the same. Not to worry as it only my suggestions..It is lovely the way it shall stay. Now I will go look up what you wrote in Italian. Smiles
Love Mona

Grazie - For the comment in Italiano:)

Che Bello Joe

When I take in the coming winter
When the colours of summers lush
foliage turns to bright and then
the brittle leaves in cold rains fall
I feel the rattle of battles earned
lost and fought against the
day against the night and against
man...and mostly against myself
building the fence that Frost so
eloquently wrote of
and where have I leaned
and dared?? Im forty eight
and I ponder the same thoughts
my struggles and truimphs
be they small were all a cost
For to live fresh and take no
risk is to be polite and well
But hardy campaigns were waged
with words and good yearned
for intentions
I am aging fastly but like the leaves
that have produced abundance
for the tree When winter creaks
through her mass and gait I
will think of my moments
and try to warm myself
with small treasures..
My few good freinds
Or a coffee or a meal
I shall make the time
and effort to be in the Now
Haunted albeit
wounded yes
and wrongly unjust
in pursuits of human
indifference or might

The sun shines brighter in
the winter
and draws her chills
but she is beautiful
and like Life
it is sometimes not kind
nor tender
But it has its brightness
its lustre
Its mercies
and treasures of existance
and for that I am grateful
for it is Grace that has
squeezed me through the
narrow and shaken me to
the marrow

I feel this too Joe
and your poem
recognizes the reluctance
of our mortality

Your freind Esker

Happiness is enjoying the smple things Time has taken my years and stolen who I was.My "turn" s coming so fast sucks!

take care, my friend.


author comment

Great writing Esker

Joe just coming in here to check on you and send you bunches of love. Hope all is well by you and you are getting stronger.

Thinking of you

Love Mona

Thinking of you and hoping you are not suffering the ills of the world and the body.
Miss reading your work. Thoughts of you....
Love Mona

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