Poems by Pat Fleming

Now what should I be thankful for?
Now where do I begin?
Of course the greatest gift of all -
My family and my friends.

But it's also all the little things
That touch my life each day
That I sometimes take for granted
Letting life get in the way.

Like my comfy bed that keeps me warm
As I sleep away the night
And that lovely glowing, smiling sun
That wakes me with her light.

Just lying there and taking time
To hear the world as she awakes.
The peaceful sounds of early morn
That nature starts to make.

The smell of breakfast cooking
My cat entreating me to rise
Breathing in the crisp fall air
And looking up at pillowed skies.

To be blessed with still another day
To laugh and love and live.
To have enough to care for me
And still have plenty more to give.

To smell and hear the rainfall
As it pitter patters from the sky.
To watch a snowy blizzard roar
While sitting safe and warm inside.

To look upon the bluest sea
As the gulls go soaring by.
To feel the salt upon my skin
As I lay beneath the sun to dry.

I'm so grateful that God still allows
Another child to be born
And that He opens up His heavens
To all those loved ones I mourn.

I feel blessed by each new moment.
Another chance to make things right
And for all good people in this world
Who love and give with all their might.

It's important each and every day
To bring all our thanks to mind.
It's tragic we're so lost in life
That we seldom take the time.

But as for me, I plan to make a change.
It's a simple change to make.
To thank God for all my blessings
Every morning when I wake!

Before he crawled into his bed,
He prayed his soul to take.
Then curled up in the darkness,
And spent the night awake.

He dreaded the morning and all it would bring
But believed that it never could change.
For with the dawn of each new day,
That face in the mirror remained.

He longed to pull the covers up
And stay forever there.
And when the sun came creeping through,
He questioned if God even cared.

He grew weary from the struggle.
He longed to have one friend.
He wished they could accept him.
He just wanted to fit in.

But for him, school was a battlefield,
A place where he never felt safe.
And at times, he felt so much anger inside,
He worried how much more he could take.

He felt bruised and battered inside and out,
So he withdrew into himself.
He wanted to fight but didn't know how.
He wished that someone would help.

But he silently carried his hurt and his pain,
So ashamed that he acted so weak.
He tried not to cry and never complained.
He would take the abuse and retreat.

Sometimes he contemplated getting revenge.
Then some days he just wanted to hide.
Sometimes he thought he could kill everyone,
Then there were moments he wanted to die.

Every day he faced bullies, angry and mean.
They were always lurking out there.
They tried to destroy every ounce of esteem
And convinced him that nobody cared.

His life was a nightmare he had to endure,
And he wasn't alone in his pain.
He saw there were others who were different, like him,
And their torture and hurt was the same.

So is this the life that we wanted for them?
Should our children feel anger and fear?
And is this the legacy we'll leave behind,
Or should we save them while we are still here.

So instead of us arguing after the fact
And taking a stand that's too late,
We must teach them the value of kindness
And that differences should be embraced.

That the human spirit can be fragile and weak.
It can break in the blink of an eye.
And we must always respect others' dignity,
Or our humanity can't hope to survive.

The days of their youth remain in their hearts
And will color their future ahead.
So let's help them create a warm, welcome place,
Instead of a world filled with dread.

Seven AM and I sat at the light,
Watching the train chugging by.
A day like the rest, on the way to my job,
Just routine with no feeling inside.

The morning was frigid and snowy,
Just thinking how cold he must be.
But there I could see him wrapped up on the stoop,
In that blanket he found on the street.

That cold, concrete stoop, at that old, empty store,
The place that for years he called home.
He sat there each day, never meeting your eyes,
Just contented to be left alone.

The weeds by the tracks were his bathroom,
His food was a bottle of wine.
His clothes were all dirty and tattered.
He was drunk or passed out all the time.

To see him you'd think he was no one.
He was barely a man anymore.
A failure to the ones who once loved him,
And a burden to the rest of the world.

But those who once knew him in the days long gone by
Would tell you how wrong you would be.
For in fact, it's quite true that this lost, broken soul
Was once just like you and like me.

He woke up every morning in a home of his own
That he shared with his son and his wife.
He worked every day as a painter by trade
And thanked God every night for his life.

People who watched him admired his ways.
He was caring and decent and good.
He worked harder than most to provide for his son,
And for neighbors he did what he could.

Life was a struggle, and times could be bad,
But he always found strength to go on.
He wanted the best for the people he loved,
Never dreaming that soon they'd be gone.

It happened in winter on a dark, snowy day,
In a storm that had moved in quite fast
That his wife ventured forth to pick up their son,
And neither survived when they crashed.

From the day they were buried his friends rallied round,
But he was lost despite how much they tried.
And even today when they speak of him still,
They say it's as if they all died.

And when I last sat at that light, by that stoop,
I saw he was no longer there.
The store still sat empty and was now boarded up,
And I wondered if anyone cared.

But later I learned on that stoop where he lived,
That place that he once made his home
He too passed away on one cold winter's day,
Long forgotten and left quite alone.

So should you pass by a lost soul such as this,
Be careful how harshly you judge him.
For you can't ever know how loved he once was,
Or how valued his life may have been.

Each day we wake is such a gift;
No moment's guaranteed.
Tomorrow isn't promised,
But to fate we must concede.

We cannot know our futures,
How long or short our lives.
We simply do the best we can
Until the end arrives.

And in life, what's most important,
In the scheme of every day,
Are the people who stand by our sides
As we venture on our way.

Those cherished, loyal, patient souls,
Who take us as we are,
Who look beyond our foolishness,
Our frailties and our scars.

How often do we take the time
To lay our hearts down bare
And tell them how we truly feel
And just how much we care?

Do we freely give a compliment
And acknowledge efforts made?
Or do our own quite fragile egos
Make us feel far too afraid?

Have we tried to overcome our pride
And forgive another's wrongs?
Or do we cling to hurt and anger
And carry grudges far too long?

Do we share our blessings willingly
With those who are in need?
Or do we hoard our own good fortune
Out of selfishness and greed?

It's the people all around us
Who make us who we are.
It is they who save our erring souls
And fill our lonely hearts.

So it's time we show some gratitude
And not wait another day.
For before we even know it,
Our chance may slip away.

It's past time to say I love you
And forgive another's sins.
We must let ourselves be vulnerable
By letting others in.

For one day, tomorrow will not come;
We may not meet again.
For inevitably, for each of us,
It all comes to an end.

So go ahead and say the words;
Make today a start.
Don't regret your silence;
Share the language of your heart.

The hardest part of getting old,
Is dealing with regrets,
Accepting there's no going back.
One chance is all I get.

Facing dreams that I once had
That never did come true,
And knowing they can't be achieved
And there's nothing now to do.

Recalling choices that I made
That clearly changed my life.
Times when I retreated
When I should have stood to fight.

People that I pushed away
Who only meant me well.
While holding on to other ones
Who made my life a hell.

Devoting all my energy
To the work I did each day
While investing little in myself
As my own life slipped away.

Not working hard on friendships,
Or on a family of my own.
So that now in this last stage of life,
I find myself alone.

If I had to do it all again,
It wouldn't be the same.
I'd live my life more for myself.
My priorities would change.

I would reach back more to others
Who had tried to pull me close.
And cherish all those people,
Who had cared for me the most.

I would not accept hurt or abuse
But demand love and respect.
I'd nurture those parts of myself
That I tended to neglect.

I would hope to have at least one child,
Who I'd teach and guide through life.
Who would hopefully look up to me,
And treasure my advice.

I would still find time to do my work,
One thing of which I'm proud.
It was my years in social work
That were my most profound.

But as for all the time I lost,
And the things that I can't change.
I have to let it go for good
And focus on the time that now remains.

For there are no second chances.
This is the life I made.
But I pray that by my being here,
I've made a difference in some way.