Midnight Stroll

October 6, 2015

It was the same song
Each and every night:
She arose and walked
Along the rocky path
Through the park to
Where she had died.

Her first time there,
Of course, would be
Her last. There was
No malice in her end,
Though she certainly
Wasn’t happy now.
Some folks have it
Far worse than being
Struck by a city bus.

As she strolls silently,
She takes note of the
Wandering souls still
Made of flesh, all still
Breathing, in and out.
She sighed to herself:
“I miss having blood.”

It was an odd thought,
Even for a ghost. She
Had simply meant that
There was a certain
Vitality to it, having it all
Coursing through you,
Every moment a lifetime…
And a certain emptiness
When it’s all gone.

Her pale face turns,
Once again, to face the
Bus that is no longer there.
Perhaps next time she will
Look both ways first.


Twelve O’Clock Tales

February 28, 2010

The first chime:
A man beaten by time and weather
Waits at a silent bus stop for the last
Chance he’ll get to see his kids
Before they’re gone.

The second chime:
A woman on her back, wearing
Nothing but a smile she doesn’t mean,
Feeling human again with a man she
Doesn’t even know.

The third chime:
Noisy commotion around a bed
The doctors saved the baby but
Mom paid the ultimate price
Who will tell the father?

The fourth chime:
A million questions race through
Your head as you try to fall asleep;
What will tomorrow hold for me?
Only time will tell.

The fifth chime:
As the last customers leave, the
Manager of the diner walks out.
Tonight he will make the decision
Not to drink himself to sleep.

The sixth chime:
A little boy, tears rolling down his
Face as he hides under the covers;
He always hates it when mommy
And daddy fight.

The seventh chime:
A priest sits at his desk in the house
Of the Lord, weeping with guilt.
How can such a sinner lead any of
God’s people?

The eighth chime:
Out on the rocky beaches
A man and a woman are wed
By the sultry light of the moon
And nothing more.

The ninth chime:
Six men carry the casket of
A seventh, a man they all called
Father and sir but never
Just Dad.

The tenth chime:
High in the Cascades, the light
Of an emergency flare finally dies
Along with the last hopes of
The stranded hiker.

The eleventh chime:
Night is still young for most
But for some it is only the start
Of the hardest day they will
Ever weather.

The twelfth chime:
The bus comes, and the man
Sighs with relief to know he
Will be able to see his sons
Before they’re gone.