Poems by Patricia Fleming

It could not be me he's thinking of
When he looks up at the soft moonlight.
And it can't be me that he's dreaming of
When he falls asleep at night.

It could not be my face that caught his eye
In the midst of his busy day
Whose beauty left him hypnotized
And at a loss for what to say.

It could not be my smile that melted his heart
Or my laughter upon the breeze.
It would not be the curves of my body
That left him limp and weak in the knees.

It surely could not be my luminous eyes
Or the touch of my skin so smooth.
It would never be just the image of me
That could trigger his amorous mood.

You see I know it could never be me
To catch a man's eye these days.
In fact if I happen to pass one by
He just looks the other way.

My eyes are not as bright anymore.
They're sagging and much too thin.
Surely, they're not the kind of place
Any man could get lost in.

My body has not aged gracefully
And my curves are far too plump.
My boobs are falling down to the floor
Along with my flatter rump.

Most often I feel invisible.
I blend into the scenery.
I'm far too old to "strut my stuff"
To get Prince Charming to notice me.

Right now feeling wanted and desired,
To be the woman of his dreams,
Is now nothing more in the scheme of my life
Than a thrilling and sweet memory.

Yes, those days of romance and passion
Have sadly passed me by
And now I just feel grateful each day
For the man growing old by my side.

She use to show up every weekend
And brighten up my day.
She'd blow me kisses and she'd talk to me
In such a loving way.

She gave me hope when there was none
And made me feel far less alone,
And I wished that maybe one day
She'd finally take me home.

Her face appeared in all my dreams.
How I longed to be her pet!
From the first time that I saw her face,
It was a face I'd not forget

But sometimes she would seem so sad.
She was always by herself.
Maybe that was why she gave me love,
Because there was nobody else.

Each week I waited patiently
To see her once again.
I think she felt the way I did,
We were becoming special friends.

Oh, there were others who would stop and stare,
But we had no chemistry,
But I knew so deep inside my heart
That her and I were meant to be.

I knew I'd make her happy.
I'd let her hold me when she cried.
All her secrets would be safe with me
And I would never leave her side.

And then one day she wore a smile,
The biggest one I'd ever seen,
And she took me gently from my cage
And said, "You're going home with me."

So I was finally being rescued.
I thought the day would never come.
I feared I'd die in that dark shelter,
Never loved by anyone.

We drove through lovely country sides
And bustling city streets.
We would always be together now
Even when life ceased to be.

And when we finally made it home,
We both felt joyful as could be,
And as I sat upon her lap she cried
"I'm so glad you rescued me!"

I once wore the deepest, emerald green
inside a cluster of plush, verdant leaves.
I bowed from an ancient, magnificent tree
and fluttered and danced in a warm spring breeze

Then I sighed in the glow of the sultry sun,
thrilled that a new summer day had begun.
The birds hopped in glee as they woke one by one
and awakened the world as they twittered and sung.

I casted a welcome, magnificent sight
that sheltered and shaded from morning to night
I spied on sweet lovers in the dreamy twilight
and slept beneath stars twinkling and bright.

Then I swelled with pride in the rich, vibrant fall,
serenaded and soothed by the cricket's calls,
and draped in a golden, russet, shawl
I hung praised and admired by one and all.

I napped in the chill of the crisp Autumn air,
as squirrels gathered acorns strewn everywhere,
then I cried as the neighboring trees became bare
and thought how this life was so quick and unfair.

My moment had passed as I lay on that ground,
now withered and useless, decaying and brown.
I looked up at that tree standing naked and down
and recalled when our beauty could thrill and astound.

Though we all looked the same whisking there in the trees,
just a cluster of delicate, whispering leaves
our uniqueness may not be so easy to see,
I assure you there's no leaf in this world just like me.

But nature as life must go through its seasons,
we are born and we die for mysterious reasons.
But I had a good life, just as harsh as was pleasing
and I hope that the world will be grieved by my leaving.

For most of my life, I've been on a quest
To discover just who I might be,
Earnestly searching, day after day,
So desperate to recognize me.

I've felt moments of utter fulfillment
And moments I couldn't go on,
But I knew for the sake of my heart and my soul,
To succeed, I would have to be strong.

But the people around me seemed so lost themselves
That I feared I might be on my own.
But then there'd be someone who would reach out and help
And remind me I wasn't alone.

I've wanted so much to be happy,
To know what it was to feel peace,
And I thought if I finally felt sure of myself,
Then the pain and the struggles would cease.

But I've learned that this journey is endless;
The discoveries are fresh every day,
And no matter how much I might know of myself,
They'll be times I will still lose my way.

And as I've grown older, I truly believe
I may never know all I can be.
But the answers are not waiting out in the world
But have always laid right inside me.

We're all on this quest to discover ourselves,
Together but through our own ways,
Overcoming whatever might get in our paths,
So we can feel better someday.

But always remember not to stray far
From what matters and what's really true.
In this life you don't have to be perfect.
In the end, you just have to be you.

Some people view forgiveness
As a virtue for the weak.
An act of mercy undeserved,
That serves no useful need.

They stand firmly in their judgment
And won't consider a mistake.
They prefer to hold a senseless grudge
Than accept amends when made.

They feel they have some godly right
To reject and criticize.
They're possessed by righteous anger,
And consumed by pointless pride.

They're focused on how they've been wronged,
And won't be made the fool again.
So they feel they must avenge themselves
By refusing to give in.

They will sacrifice their family,
Or forsake a long-time friend.
Do anything they have to do
To be the winner in the end.

Or perhaps it's that they can't resolve
The depth of all their hurt,
Caused when someone they've trusted,
Left them questioning their worth.

But no matter why the struggle,
Out of pride or out of fear,
Not being able to forgive
Can cause the loss of ones most dear.

Yes, forgiveness is a virtue,
They even say it is divine.
But more than that it sets you free
From what weighs you down inside.

The best way to approach this life
Is to ask forgiveness and to forgive.
There's a balance to this crazy world,
So live and just let live.

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.

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!