If words were notes upon a score,
would the melody play beyond...
Each phrase a chord, each line a hymn,
each paragraph a song
If words could cry harmonic,
as their letters drift away
Would music take you past that place,
—your words force you to stay
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
To Rebegin
As you age and days get shorter,
do you reach out for the source
Whether family, friends, or playground,
is the pull a constant source
Is the attraction of returning,
going home then once again
The final stage in your progression,
—to refresh and rebegin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Fond Memory\'s Child
My body ages…
as words stay young
Gentler written,
more often sung
Fond memory’s child…
youth starts to rage
All gray outside,
blue-blonde the page
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)