Poems by Pat Fleming

Outside my bedroom window
Stands an old majestic tree.
She's been standing there for decades,
Just as proud as she can be.

And every morning when I wake,
She's the first thing I see.
This lovely constant in my life,
So magnificent and free.

I can see the early, rising sun
Peeking through her lush green leaves.
I can hear her moving gently,
In the summer's warming breeze.

She has a personality
That she wants the world to see.
And her moods are ever changing
Behind her silent dignity.

She responds to every season,
In her own unfettered way.
All we have to do is gaze at her
To know what season's on its way.

In the Spring she comes alive again,
As her leaves begin to bloom.
And beneath the sun's attention,
You can almost see her swoon.

And in the heat of the summertime,
When her joy is magnified.
She has never looked more beautiful,
All "decked out to the nines."

And when the Fall comes creeping in,
And a chill floats on the breeze,
She prefers to don more earthy tones,
And does just what she please.

But when the Winter's looming large,
It's impossible to hide
As her barren limbs droop soulfully.
They betray her grief inside.

She's stood by me through all my days.
She's watched me laugh and cry.
She's listened so intently
While I've pondered on my life.

And when I see her dank and weary,
I will sit with her sometimes.
And all the years we've shared together
Will come rushing back to mind.

But both of us are strong and true.
We've become the closest friends,
And we will weather every storm
Together till the end.

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.

There's a silence so loud that it's deafening,
And the sun seems unusually bright.
The world is awakening to a bitter cold morn
And a crystalline blanket of white.

Our breath can be seen in the frigid air,
Our boots crunch, crunch with our stride.
Shovels resound in the midst of their battle,
As people now brave the outside.

Snowflakes still fall, leaving drops in the snow.
They melt as they land on our tongues.
People all bundled up tight to keep warm,
Suited up to let loose and have fun.

We're also determined to have a good time,
As we take our own stand in the snow.
The crisp, frosty wind tries to chase us away,
Pushing our backs as we go.

But no matter our struggle with winter's attack,
Our excitement just won't let us wait.
The snow is falling harder and steadier now,
And there's a Snowman that we must create.

Rolling the snow into big hearty balls,
Stacking each one on the last.
Charcoal for eyes and a long carrot nose,
And a hat and a scarf to add class.

A day made of wonderful memories,
Hours of laughter and childish fun.
And as time rushes by, we realize with glee,
That our work on our Snowman is done!

The gold, dimming sun retreats from the sky.
We are shivering and chilled to the bone.
Farewell and adieu to our shimmering pal,
And hello to the fires of home.

I gaze out at the night, as the house settles down,
And from the window I watch the snow fall.
And there in the glow of the fullest of moons,
Our exquisite, plump Snowman stands tall.

I sit upon my front porch stoop
Beneath the morning sun.
Grateful for the moment spent
Away from everyone.

The air is fresh and slightly chilled,
The sky is blue and clear.
The silence that surrounds me now
Is music to my ears.

I love the morning best of all,
It's my most tranquil time,
When the promise of a brand new day
Can ease my troubled mind.

When second chances seem more possible
And the world less cold and dark,
And hope can somehow pierce the walls
Of my sad and aching heart.

When left alone with nature
All the world seems far away
And the woes of life so trivial
When wrapped in her embrace.

But alas the birds awaken
And begin to sing their songs,
And people slowly wander by
And nod as they go on.

The sun has now grown brighter
As it rises in the sky
And in the distance there's a whistle
As a train goes lumbering by.

The world is calling out to me
To jump back in the fray.
To have faith things can get better
And let go of yesterday.

So today I get to start again
By the morning light renewed.
Feeling brave and energized,
There is nothing I can't do.

I wake up each day
On this journey of mine,
Grabbing each moment
Of my limited time.

I don't try to hurry.
It isn't a race.
There's still much to do
In this vast, vibrant place.

But the road's been so rocky,
The rain damp and cold.
I can't cover much ground
When I'm feeling so old.

People dash by me
As if I'm not there.
In a hurry to no place,
In haste to nowhere.

My feet start to hurt.
Now I must stop and rest.
I feel my heart beating
So fast in my chest.

But I need to catch up
Or they'll leave me behind,
If my body gives out
Or I misplace my mind.

They don't seem to see
They're just chasing their ends
And each moment slighted
Will not come again.

The sun's finally shining.
The birds are in tune.
The Summer to Autumn
Will pass away soon.

Most days that I travel
I'm all on my own,
Just revisiting places
And people I've known.

Days may pass by,
I don't utter a word
My memories grow distant
My life's purpose more blurred.

Some gloomier days
I don't get out of bed,
But search for my epiphanies
In my sweet dreams instead.

But alas I keep going,
I just tarry along.
I tell all my stories
And sing some old songs

I still share my smile
When I think there's a need,
Be a friend and a confidante
To anyone who wants me.

Still I wake up each day
On this journey of mine
And I thank God for the gift
Of a little more time.

Some days are better
While Some days are worse
But there's still much to see
And new roads to traverse.

The familiar rhythm of the cricket's chirps
Create the soundtrack for each day,
Echoing Summer's end
And that Autumn's on her way.

The stifling heat of the summer sun
Is now tempered by the clouds.
Those fluffy, cotton August clouds,
That soft breezes push about.

Shadows falling everywhere
As the sun plays peek-a-boo.
Losing her strength with each new day,
A sure sign that Summer is through.

As the lazy, care-free summer days,
Reluctantly draw to an end.
Excitement grows for what's ahead,
As school days and the Fall begin.

And no matter how the years may pass,
And how old I come to be,
I'll always love this time of year,
As it holds such fond memories

Of sitting with my childhood friends,
Recalling all our fun
While running, swimming and riding bikes
Beneath the summer sun.

And sharing all our hopes and dreams
As the future stirs us on.
Knowing as we sit on that late, August eve,
Summer's ending, but her memory lives on.

But there's also a haunting sadness sometimes
That I feel when those dark shadows fall.
And that my greatest adventures in life
Are just memories, now aroused by those sweet cricket calls.

Live in the moment,
Just take it all in.
Pay attention to everything,
Right there and right then.

Don't let your mind wander
To what's coming next.
Cherish this moment
And give it your best.

Don't let tomorrow
Make you rush through today,
Or too many great moments
Will just go to waste.

And the person you're with,
In that moment you share,
Give them all of your focus;
Be totally there.

Laugh till it hurts,
Let the tears drop.
Fill up each moment
With all that you've got.

Don't miss the details;
The lesson is there.
Don't get complacent;
Stay sharp and aware.

It can take but a moment
To change your life's path.
And once it ticks by,
There is no going back.

In just 60 seconds,
You may make a new friend.
Find your true love,
Or see a life start or end.

You become who you are
In those moments you live.
And the growth's not in taking
But in how much you give.

Life is just moments,
So precious and few.
Whether valued or squandered,
It's all up to you!

If time exists in heaven,
Do you still rise with the sun?
Do you and Mom share breakfast
Before your day has begun?

Can the heavens hear your laughter
As you sit and reminisce
About the time we had together
And other people that you miss?

And Daddy, do you still take walks
Along heaven's seas?
And when you gaze upon the surf,
Do you remember walks with me?

Are your standing with those brave young men
Upon its perfect shores?
Finally by their sides again,
Your comrades from the war.

Do you gather with your family
Beneath heaven's glow?
And gaze upon those mountains still
That once you called your home.

Is music all around you,
All those songs you held so dear?
Do you and Mom still sing together,
The way you did when you were here?

Do you ever have long talks with God
About those left behind?
Do you tell him all the stories
Of all our grand and treasured times?

I think that heaven must be grateful
To have you there each day,
To bring your easy laughter
And your silly sense of play.

And I'm sure that God already knows
The special father you had been
And how I wish that you were here
To guide my way again.

But I carry you inside my heart.
You are never far from me.
I see you in my smile
And in who I grew to be.

And I'm sure that on this Father's Day
God will help you celebrate
All those dads who changed the world with love.
What a party that will make!

I took a walk this morning
Just as the sun began to rise,
And the inky clouds encompassed her
And cluttered up the skies.

In the gloom I stood among
Those worn and weathered stones.
Stretched out upon the greenest grass
Each standing quite alone.

A morning bird was singing
Such a sweet and mournful song,
A tribute to those dearest souls
Who long ago moved on.

Ancient trees stood towering
Like loyal sentries standing guard,
Witnesses to all those laid to rest
And those surviving broken hearts.

The respectful silence floated
On a chilly morning breeze,
And the peacefulness embraced me
Like a blanket warming me.

Outside the gates, life carried on,
A siren pierced the hallowed air.
I thought perhaps another soul
Would soon be buried there.

I strolled around quite aimlessly
Entranced by all those words in stone,
And I realized that behind those words
Each had a story of their own.

I was glad I came to visit them
On this dark and dreary day,
And shared my story with them too
As I wandered on my way.

And as I reached the gates to leave,
Rain fell lightly from the sky,
And I swear I heard the softest voice
Bidding me a sweet good-bye.

Purple veins strain against the skin.
Pale, translucent, paper thin.
Skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes,
Brown spots from years that she can't erase.

Now wrinkled and fragile, weak and sore,
So many things she can't do anymore.
Some days she feels she's been betrayed
By the cruelty of her advancing age.

She rubs her hands to ease the ache
And recalls the life they helped to make.
She looks at them and feels the loss,
Living a life bears a very high cost.

These hands that held her children near,
That gently dried their salty tears.
Hands that held her husband's tight,
That never let go against the fight.

Miraculous hands that protected and soothed.
Hands, they conveyed her every mood.
Hands so strong they could carry the weight,
That would never give up and never forsake.

Those hands that took little but always gave,
Hands that applauded each achievement made.
Those soft, sweet hands that gently cared,
For those sick or lost in dark despair.

Hands that fussed and fumbled that day
Her husband gave their daughter away.
Those hands holding tight as he slowly died,
Caressing his brow as she stood by his side.

Hands that rocked her grandson to sleep,
That gladly took over when others grew weak.
Hands that once held everyone that she loved,
And prayed for strength to our God above.

Hands that were always so willing to give,
Hands that reveal a life fully lived.
Small, feeble hands, now empty and cold,
These hands that each day will keep growing old.

These hands she now tends to hide away,
These hands that at times make her feel ashamed.
Grotesque and useless in her eyes,
They rest in her lap as she quietly cries.

But I see the hands of a hero so true,
A woman who survived what this life put her through.
A woman whose heart still shimmers like gold,
With the hands of a warrior who made her mark on this world.