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Neen and Grampa, Love You Always

Neen and Grampa, Love You Always

webs

webs

Angel Robin

Angel Robin
MANY of these photos are courtesy of my SoulMate, my Beloved Eternal, Robin Taylor.

We Meet Again...

We Meet Again...

Lovers

Lovers

VirtuosoBabe

VirtuosoBabe

FreddieBrianBabyKitty

FreddieBrianBabyKitty

Cathy's Babies

Cathy's Babies


Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Hope's Daddy

She teases, giggles! "Race ya' home! You *know* I'll be there first!"
Bicycle wheel collides with Rock! Hope tumbles; she shrieks!

Oblivious, my tinny yellow Toodle-loop radio reposes on Earthen bed,
flung in pieces to Ground:
 Top Ten pop tunes silenced
Silence...

(But didn't I hear...?)
Freddie serenades two girls,
 "Beelzebub"   
climbs, climax! crescendoes! - 
oblivious to our pre-pubescent Theatre...

New Silence
til piercing shrill shriek screams!


Hope, brave agonized 12-yr-old,
broken bones cushioned by forest floor's embrace;
Burnt sienna waves a'tangle on Earthen pillows,
Evergreens; March's tentative Sun...
1975...
Sky, whispering, still holding Snow...

Hope, my friend, you broke your collarbone...
but...Your Dad will die in a freak accident, two years on; 
we had no revelation then...
Mr. Ski-Bum drove hastily Home to Brooklyn, 
Dreaming of the White White...
our beLoved Catskill Mts...
"Seven Days on, til I fly those slopes once more..."
Dreaming...

We  didn't know; nobody Saw:
the same Circle held a more deeply sinister view:
Another Brooklyn weekender 
tied trailer to 70's boat of an auto,
huge gas-guzzler holds exotic Nascar-worthy ride 
upon a flimsy homemade wooden bed,
amateurishly tied...
Instrument of your Daddy's death, my beLoved Hope...
displayed prominently in Time's Circle...but...
How on Earth could we see the Circle, then,
 ?

We didn't know...
Your fractured collarbone Pain felt like ether,  
against your Heart's sear-ed ache when your Dad departed...
Daddy...Hope's Daddy...

I knew not how to help...
Our Friendship stole hiatus, as we rode our separate Journeys;
Where are you now, angel?
I'm so sorry, Hopey!..
Sorry for your pain, my girl...

Do you recall...your bone-crunch into Forest's loving furrow 
sent me peddling, speeding home;
  12-yr-old limbs pumping Time's barriers,
( you said, "like orange juice bolts to a hangover,")
I raced Time for Home:
"Ambulance, please!!!"
Years before cell phones...
or  911...

I blamed myself...why?
I do not remember "why"

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