A Middle Age Lament

When I was young
I used to rise,
Early in the morning,
To answer nature’s calling.
Now that I’m older,
When I rise,
I hurry to a room next door
To answer nature’s other call.
And though I grieve
At this grim change,
In biologic urges,
I remain, somewhat in awe,
That I still hear
Nature’s calls at all.

Toward a Meeting of the Heart

Must is always be
thus? A sorrowful event,
this slow decline of aging?
Or, can we make time
in our crazy, busy, lives;
a pause to sit, be,
loving, in reminiscence
together, while time remains?

Or must we, waiting,
face that harsh regret, wishing
another path was chosen?

Be undeterred
by ancient patterns, remain
steadfast, unswayed
by current, daily pressures;
make the time, for whom we love.