Watch Them Fade Away

Memories created by action
every one captured like notes in a scrap book
We catalogue photos on a silver screen
that shuffles like cards on a rolodex
Sketching scenery out in the woods
paper becomes alive when art blooms
The sound when heard of a guitar strumming
to the howl of a lonesome wolf crying
Rabbits on the ground, blackbirds above
spring breeds, when mating season comes
Memories kept in a bottle
loses their lustre and throttle
Watch them fade away
trapped without air, dare I say


Memories ii

reflecting on the nights that passed
memories return from the past

embers glow, tobacco burns
deep is its fiery hue, it cools

the air taken in with a high
expelling breaths with a sigh

buzzing on a rise
heaven or hell, go for that ride

take it for a spin
it’s a win, win

a high plains drifter
spaghetti western shooter

fading into the setting sun
a silhouette of a man and horse on the run

leaving behind trouble
even the good kind

time comes to settle down
old bones start to rattle and hum

sitting every night
watching the light

at the days end, before the dark comes
where the fire in the sky plumbs

a line that spreads far and wide
reflecting memories, measured in stride

as the setting sun fades away
it reminds, tomorrow is another day


the reference to spaghetti western? as a boy i always wanted to do that. ride into the sun and leave everything behind. looking back, i actually did it. not on a horse but my own two feet. made it now to the place i can rest. no more running and hiding.

peace and love


Memories i

all there is, is love
as the day begins anew
a bond, created

seasons change in fours
the cycle that spins around
side by side as one
spring, summer, fall and winter
where you go, I go

memories painted
colours brushed on in real life
watching the sun set

forged companionship
time tick tocks passing on by
like the seasons change
tick tock, tick tock, one by one
into the past we all fade

photos taken from tumblr

Grandpa ~ A Collaboration by GeorgeForFun and Ax

No weekend visits to grandpa’s house
No fishing trips to his favorite lake
No lessons on how to tie a knot
No funny stories of a youth long gone

Blessed to have grandkids in his life
Their favorite place is in the yard
Teaching them lessons of value
A voice filled with patience and love

No Sunday meal, after church
No ice cream parlor treats
No walks to the park
No naps under the old oak tree

Every day meals shared as one
Designing homemade ice to slurp and taste
Daily treks shared in Natures beauty
His recliner becomes the napping post

No tricks played on grandma
No childish pranks encouraged
No sounds of laughter heard
No sounds of life remembered

Grandma would be proud to be punk’d
Fate had a different plan for her and us
Older cousins teach them humor and wisdom
The sounds of youthful love…evokes Happiness

No bath time games
No bed time stories
No good night prayers
No good morning hugs

Slipping and sliding among the toys
Readings of stories made before their births
Prayers of hope and blessings drift on pillows
Bedtime and Morning hugs need no sounds

No one to call grandpa
No one to embrace
No one to love
No memories of a legacy

Right before the mass, hugging begins
Calling out Opa! music to his ears
Without sound they still feel his heart
Memories of love stored in grandpa’s eyes

A Collaboration By George and Ax

If you know George, an introduction is not required because he is without a doubt the kindest man alive. He can rival Santa…and that rainbow colored beard, is actually cooler than white
If you do not know George, do yourself a favor and visit his site linked above or HERE!!!
Get to know this generous soul. He is a devoted family man and he has more kids than the Brady and Partridge families combined.
I never met my grandpa. I would hope he would be George.

George, thank you, this is humbling for me. Thank you for your kindness and thank you for sharing your busy time with all of us.