But Didn't

Did you ever think at close of day

Of kindly words you meant to say—

                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think when day is done

Of errands kind you could have run—

                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think at daytime’s end

Of flowers bright you meant to send—

                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think when skies are red

Of hungry mouths you could have fed—

                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think at dawn of night

Of letters kind you meant to write—

                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think at life’s set of sun

You’ll think of deeds you could have done—

                          But didn’t?

                              ~Kathryn Thorne Bowsher

A Few Thoughts On Growing Old

• Old age arrives suddenly as does the snow 

• The entire life of a human being depends upon “yes” and “no” uttered two or three times between the ages of 16 and 25. 

• Old age embellishes everything. It has the effect of the setting sun on the beautiful twilights of autumn. 

• The person who considers himself too old to learn something has probably always been that way. 

• So long as one continues to be amazed, one can delay growing old. 

• It is by growing old that one learns to remain young. 

• It's not about the lines on the face - it's about the wisdom behind them. 

• Youth is a wonderful thing.  What a crime to waste it on children.  ~George Bernard Shaw 

• There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.

Love Is

Love is a warm spring day, a moonlit

        night, green meadows, daffodils

        swaying in the breeze, closeness,

        understanding, needing, not caring

        what other people say, a red rose,

        belonging, longing, frustration,

        pain...

                                ~pth


 This poem appears in the book "Sweet Whispers of Love."

Solitude

The fresh spring rain has subsided,

     leaving a heavy fog hanging
 in the early morning air. The only

     hint of life nearby is the sound of

birds singing outside my window.

 

My heart is as heavy as the

     smothering fog because I have

     awakened to the realization that

 your pillow has not been slept on.

 

Our once deep love has diminished

     like the rain; a simple

     misunderstanding developed

into a quarrel, created hostility and

     finally surrendered to indifference.

 

Now you are gone and my life is as

     empty as the six a.m. streets. 
 I have only the sweet smell of spring
     rain, the music of singing birds, and

 lovely memories.

                                 ~ pth

 

Be Gone Sweet Youth!

Be gone, sweet youth

I do not care that you are waning now,

Nor will I whine and beg you stay –

Who needs you anyhow?

Be gone, sweet childhood days of yore

When care was far away,

Even if you could,

I would not beg you stay.

Away, sweet adolescent years

Of discovering love and pain

Even if I wanted to,

I can’t see you again.

Be gone, young wedded years

Of plans and hopes and dreams;

I can’t recall your good points

My memory fails, it seems.

I sampled your sweet offerings

Laughed and loved and cried

But when I felt secure in life,

Then you just up and died!

So, be gone, sweet youth

Take with you all your vows;

I will not whine and beg you stay

Who needs you anyhow?

                                  ~PTH

Do Not Speak To Me Of Love

Do not speak to me of love

It would only bring me pain,

It’s true I’ve been in love before,

But shall not love again.

I used to think ‘twas love that made

The world go spinning ‘round,
But now I know that true love
Can’t possibly be found.

I gave my heart to one who vowed
He’d always be around,
Then one day he left me and my world
Came crashing down.

So, to speak to me of love my friend
Would truly be absurd;
For me, love has no meaning,
It’s just another word!
                                ~pth

The Uninvited

Loneliness is a cold, steel blade

Cutting at the heart..

Not swiftly, so as to ease the pain,

But with a cruel slowness.

Creeping in uninvited

While the sun sleeps and the silence

   is deafening

It tortures the soul and refuses to
   stop

Until it is dipped once again...

Into the searing hot fires of love!