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Richard S. Becker

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Allentown, PA, US

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Morning

by

Richard S. Becker

Birds are chirping, people sleeping,
When the sun comes up from rest;
Early morning, animals playing,
That is when the day is best.

Air is quiet, still, and chilling,
Flowers waking from their sleep;
As the dew is around milling,
Fish are coming up to feed.

A rooster crows as my love stirs,
From a rest that was serene;
Sleeping, cuddling next to her,
I am content to lay and dream.

The day is starting slowly calm,
Darkness gone, light the skies;
Peaceful setting all around,
Life continues as we rise.


Shadow

by

Richard S. Becker

Dark it was, that sleek walkway of concrete, stone, and sand,
Cold, damp, an indifferent breeze as stars viewed the icy land;
Nearby houses spread soft light in streaks of silver gray,
As emotionless spectators' eyes caught peering in dismay.

I briskly walked the chosen path,
My goal was health and cheer;
Silence was my joyful mate,
The track was dry and clear.

Suddenly, behind was sensed a voiceless click or hush,
As in the morning when we rise snow falling on a bush;
Or floating seeds of cottonwoods in the Colorado wind,
Drifting like parachutes so slowly they descend.

I turned around expectantly anticipation high,
Nothing there except a leaf hanging gently in the sky;
Gazing higher to observe the stars, wings flapped freely in the air,
But it was just a wayward bat flying to its lair.

It is risible what minds can do when emotions reach,
To try and touch the timelessness that others never teach;
And in the paltry narrowness fear conquers and takes control,
Sacrificed are dreams and thoughts that attempt to make us whole.

Proceeding on, feelings sharp, speculations choked,
Feeble deliberations the puzzlement invoked;
The mystery endured that night persisted and grew strong,
But each time I turned around there was nothing wrong.

Now and then we do not think of possibility,
We are tied and bound in chains invisible agony;
When agitation finally leaps into its vague abyss,
Abruptly the way is seen we initially seemed to miss.

Impulsively a thought emerged so simple yet complex,
Instead of back I should look down an overlooked reflex;
There behind pursued a friend, slender, gray, sublime,
A furry little confidant my six inch-high canine.


Ode to Bob

by

Richard S. Becker

Standing here I think about two tears of gray and white,
Of long years gone and restive clouds, which barricade our sight;
A man of strength in the mist, sailing on the sea,
Traveling now on paths of light, crystal mystery.

One tear unleashes sadness, feelings trapped set free,
Holding on to wisps of dreams, that cannot ever be;
Yet, here lies a man and friend for life, his spirit on its way,
To heaven's gate and other worlds, eternal prophesy.

The other tear, a happy one, remembering the past,
Love and life with family, friendsí feelings steadfast;
Times written in the golden book, love, health, friendship, cheer,
Pleasant days recorded then will always be near.

As powdered sugar disappears on freshly baked French toast,
Leaving its sweet memory of which the bread can boast;
So is left a legacy, the spirit we can't see,
For love endures when all else fails, into eternity.