I remember you friend Mike McHugh, always a good story, always a great smile.
Women loved your raven black hair and your bright, deep blue eyes, to them
you were a handsome prize.
I hated how time dulled your bright deep blue eyes, grayed your raven black hair,
stole the stories from your lips, numbed your mind with a medical condition worse
than Parkinson’s.
How it saddened my heart that all that you were and more the years erased
And worse, now that all that you were and more is gone forever
buried in the cold, unfeeling ground.
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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