Transitions

Tarry some moments and hold my hand
upon this autumn bench we rest
Tell me of summers past
the happy and too the sad
I will cherish to see the little smiles
and share with you the frowns
as memories of all those times ago
sculpt lines upon your face

©2009 Ken Anderson
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I am having a tough time with Carolyn's depression; she is much like I was when she was in hospital. I can hardly get her to leave the house, even to sit on the porch.
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Today is mild temps and windy; this year has been one of extremes in the weather dept.
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I did get some more work done on writing about my early years, from my first memories in 1947 up to the time I finished primary school in 1963. I was held back a year; I failed to understand why I should know the intricacies of Algebra. As a matter of fact, I failed it three times; ninth grade, summer school, and again in 10th grade; mothers are so persistent. It is fine with me if x wants to equal y, but I find it simpler to allow x to just be x. I finally managed to ace arithmetic in 11th grade.
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Speaking of my mother, if she had lived another eight years, we would have celebrated her 90th birthday yesterday.
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