Cleaning out my desk for what I believe will be the Final Encampment, I came across the following pome, which, helas, is still apt.
I grieve for lost connection
The friendships of my youth
When we sought Love and Fame and Joy
And some of us the Truth
But not that dedicatedly
We had a world of time
And days shone trouble-free
And endless, now and then sublime
Then we lost touch, the constant calls
Shared hopes, rehearsal dinners
Condolences when parents passed
Auguri to the winners.
But then came loss and grief and age
So called on to mature
We moved onto a different page
That headlined: just endure.
And so we have, and so we do
Except for the deceased
There's more of them of late, 'tis true
We should have phoned at least
Or asked an old friend out to lunch
Because you just don't know
When someone that you greatly prized
Might be the next to go.
So call the friend who might be lonely
Melancholy, sick
For no one lives forever
Except for Cheney, that Dick.
THEN FOUND ALSO THIS:
Tweet me no Whatsapp
Rhyme me a rhyme
Write me a letter
While there's still time
'Ere closes the post office
Falters Fedex
And nothing but Google
Is left that connects
Send me some roses
Encloses a brief note
Nothing excessive
Just proof that you wrote
You don't have to love me
Or be too considerate
Only show someone
Is still somewhat literate.
ALL FOR NOW. Will continue cleaning out my desk, my mind, and my heart. Love, Gwen
