She said she knew me in a former life
Inwardly I scoffed at that
Another crazy
Why always me
I should have known
By the way she dressed
Like a neo hippie
Or a white witch
Though she was beautiful
I couldn’t do crazy
Did crazy too many times
Never worked out
I became crazy too
From the bizarre nonsense
And scatterbrained beliefs
But when she touched my hand
My mind reeled back to former lives
Like watching them in a movie
I saw she had been my wife
In the High Middle Ages, 1662
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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