Poems by Amara450

Twas on a bright September morn, and without much fuss,
Our bowls club set off to Devon by bus,
The driver was amazed as could be,
Thinking, their average age must be 93,
He didn't know of the hard inner core,
Of these aged players that would rise to the fore,
That would show their real spirit the very next day,
When they arrived at Much Banter ready to play,
When driving winds and torrential rain,
Would not be allowed to spoil their game.

So, undaunted, when surveying the scene,
First viewed when stepping out on the green,
At the sight of the rinks that awaited us there,
Unless it was to sigh, and then to despair,
At the sight of the gullies, the dips and the bumps,
The patches of mud and grass scattered in clumps,
Their Captain, on seeing my horrified face,
Said "don't worry, it's not such a bad place",
"It plays well when you know it", he said with a smile,
"But to work all that out might take you a while".

Well, just in an effort to make things far worse,
The rain just increased to make players curse,
And to those in club shirts and some dressed in shorts,
It put sunny days and dry clothes in their thoughts,
But never the less, they bravely played on,
Till every last vestige of dryness was gone,
And the bowls struggled on in search of the jack,
Spray spinning from puddles that now held them back,
We played out eight ends while the rain it just poured,
I'm not even going to mention the scores,
Then we stopped, and all rushed in for tea,
Inside in the warm where we wanted to be,

We were plied with hot tea, scones, jam and cream
While our shirts and our trousers started to steam,
Then the Captains conferred looking up at the sky,
And hopefully said "It's starting to dry",
We were given the choice, as both Captains exclaim,
Stay inside in the dry or go back out again,
Well, we gazed out on skies looking blacker than ever,
And foolishly said, 'What!, and be beaten by weather"?
Now what on earth made us make that stupid reply,
To troop out once more neath grey leaden sky,
How foolish we were to think things might change,
Cos the minute we started it poured hard again,
Then the jacks were rolled out and hopefully we,
Sent out our bowls to where they might be,
With hands dripping wet and numb with the cold,
We failed to find grip on the woods that we bowled,

Five more ends were played out as the rain it just poured,
As we stoics played on and simply endured,
Then the Captains cried 'Stop, we've all had enough",
"It's time to give in and get out of this stuff".
So wet and bedraggled we trooped back in doors,
Our soaking wet shoes leaving mud on the floors,
Then our hosts had the best idea by far,
As they shouted out loud, "We'll open the bar",
Now those who know us, well you all know the score.
For bowlers like us it's what we came for,
With loud shouts of glee in one steaming rush,
They lined up at the bar in one heaving crush,
And as Amber liquid washed away all the pain,
They toasted Much Banter shouting 'We'll be back again".

Now that you're gone and I'm alone
To face the future on my own,
I wonder how, as day by day,
I struggle hard to find a way,
To justify this life of mine,
Make sense of my remaining time,
To come to terms with loss and grief,
To reconcile and find some peace,
Now that your gone, and I'm alone,
To face the future on my own.

This house, the home we strived to make,
A haven for our old age sake,
Now filled with random memories,
Of happiness that used to be,
No voices call, just silence fills,
The spaces filled by memories,
I reach at night to one not there,
Survey by day her empty chair,
Just ghosts to wander from the past,
And hollow aching in my heart.

My family and friends all try,
To ease the pain as time goes by,
With gentle words and kindly deeds,
They strive to ease emotions needs,
They help, but nothing can replace,
The one that used to fill this space,
So I return alone, and shut the door,
Absorb the emptiness once more,
Eyes full, cheeks wet, I long to hear,
The voice of one I held so dear,
I pray for strength to try each day,
Be positive, and find a way,
Through passing days and months now flown,
Now that you're gone, and I'm alone.

In the crowded room she sits alone,
Lost inside her tangled thoughts,
Her eyes unfocused on the floor,
She doesn't know me any more.

This girl with whom I shared my life,
Who loved me as I love her still,
My dear companion, my best friend,
Stolen now to this sad end.

I cannot just desert her now,
Though every visit causes pain,
To see her weeping, sitting there,
Confused, and lost, and in despair.

Just one of many gathered there,
Cared for, safe, but lost to life,
To sit alone in lined up chairs,
Lost to all of those who care.

I wish that I could take her home,
To comfort her and ease her mind,
Shut out this cruel life, close the door,
But she doesn't know me any more.