The West Wind Whispered

I dreamed I was fighting for my country

I dreamed of the cannon’s mighty roar

A soldier boy in blue, a dream come true

Defending my sweet homeland in a war

I dreamed of a compound on the hillside

And of a flag that fluttered in the breeze

I heard myself cry as the bullets flew by

And the west wind whispered in the trees

I’d heard that the gypsy fortune teller

Could see into the future on demand

With a sense of doom I went to her room

She told me to sit down and took my hand

‘There’s a flag that’s flying on a hillside

It has colours that flutter in the breeze

The year forty two, the soldiers in blue

And the west wind whispers in the trees’

In forty two I fought for my country

And I was proud to wear my uniform

But cried with fright in the heat of the night

As the battle raged like a thunderstorm

Our cannons were roaring on the hillside

The enemy was down upon its knees

But a swift riposte made us count the cost

As the west wind whispered in the trees

We fell back to safety in our compound

With the enemy chasing close behind

We had left it late as we slammed the gate

But we couldn’t shut them out of our mind

And we watched them swarming up the hillside

They had a flag that fluttered in the breeze

Our cannons replied, and many men died

As the west wind whispered in the trees

They prepared to set ablaze the compound

They called to us ‘surrender or you burn’

But we all cheered as our Seventh appeared

It was then that the wind began to turn

And we charged like madmen down the hillside

And we showed them the nature of the beast

When the day was done, the battle was won

As the wind came howling from the east


Midnight Moonlight

Midnight, moonlight, lost in the black night

The headless horseman is coming up the road

You’re shaking, shivering, quivering in fright

He might take you off to Satan’s dark abode

Crouching, creeping, oppression is sweeping

A grey mist encompassing everything around

The sorrowful sound of a young girl weeping

The manic laughter around you does resound

Darkness, lightless, you’re groping sightless

The smell of rotting corpses permeates the air

Fingers touching something cold and lifeless

Bloated maggots crawl all through your hair

Tottering and turning, your flesh is burning

The white hot cinders are blistering your feet

Your nerves are jangling, stomach is churning

There’s no way forward but you can’t retreat

Staggering, stumbling, in blindness fumbling

Cold hand of death is placed upon your knee

Mutations gathering, dark voices grumbling

The Devil invites you ‘Come dance with me’

Squirming, sneaking, the rats are squeaking

Bat wings are flapping all around your head

A coffin lid opens with an ominous creaking

Voices are wailing from the land of the dead

Slithering and slipping, your mind is flipping

The scream of a banshee sounding in your ear

Tentacles entwining you and tightly gripping

It’s hard to breathe, you are frozen with fear

Daylight, nice sight, it makes you feel alright

The dawn brings a refuge and keeps you sane

You made it through the long and black night

In a few more hours it will be darkness again

Midnight, moonlight, lost in the black night

The headless horseman is coming up the road

You’re shaking, shivering, quivering in fright

He might take you off to Satan’s dark abode

Sacred Flowers


I walked through the misty forest

Where many sycamore trees grow

I saw the rare shrouded beauty

Of sacred flowers in the snow

She was waiting by the lakeside

There were dewdrops in her hair

Then she told me with a whisper

That we must end our love affair

On a cold november morning

For the final time we kissed

The tears ran down my face

As she walked off into the mist

All that remain are memories

How I stood and watched her go

The bitter tears for a lost love

And sacred flowers in the snow

Witches Rock – Costa Rica


Una de las 20 cascadas del río Pacuare de Cost...

Image via Wikipedia

Witches Rock – Santa Rosa National Park, Costa Rica.

This one is for you, Gran! Lovely photograph(not this one!).

Does Romance Endure?

I have witnessed enduring romance, timeless tenderness, eternal passion, and yes, even unceasing lust, in my life and times. I am especially honored by my recollections of one very special elderly couple.  

For several years, I worked in the home of a local elderly couple as a private nurse. I was often staying there over night.  They asked me to spend my “work” nights in a cozy room, just across the hallway from their extra-large, shared bedroom suite. I had a handy-dandy “baby” monitor by my bed.  My job there at night, was to assist the elderly gentleman during the night with his personal care needs and to help the little woman with her own needs, should any arise before dawn. Each night, the short, round, little man was tucked cozily into his full-sized bed on one side of the large room, with his adult diaper on and his oxygen going full blast. He was always happy, always singing me a song before I went to my room for the night, usually a Tony Bennet selection, and always performed with powerful perfection. The short, round, little woman was cozy as well, ensconced in her matching full-sized bed, only a few feet away from her happy, crooner husband. She was ever cheerful, always kind, night after night, year after year.

They both realized that I could hear every breath and every word muttered in their room. Each night, there was the same conversation, mostly, light and airy pillow talk between the two of them, followed by, “I love you darling, I love you too” then, there were more “I love you darlings, and, I love you too’s” Sometimes, he would sing to her until she slept, or they would share happy memories of their children and grandchildren, then, they would giggle in unison from their perspective beds. Sometimes, she would pad across the room and kiss his face or his hands and perhaps gently rub his back for a few moments. He had a habit of caressing her cheek  for long tender moments.

In my room across the hallway, I would sometimes silently shed tears, big fat tears, that would fall on the book that I was reading and leave salty stains.  I wondered if the great-grandchildren would see those stains one day, and wonder at them? The books I read were from their personal library. I would cry because I knew that his time on earth was short, and I fretted over her coming sorrow. Other times, I would smile to myself and marvel at the ever lasting romance that they shared, at the chemistry that was so evident, even though the flesh, the joints, the bones, the organs, were tired and nearly worn out by now.

I sometimes worked day shift as well, and their behavior was much the same during the day time. I would feed him at the table and she would eat her food by his side and cluck over how much or how little he was eating or not eating, he always smiled at her when she did this. He would break out in song sometimes, and she would run to the piano and play for him. Sometimes, they would turn their special music on, and she would dance and push his wheel chair in little zig zags and circles across the room, he would clap his hands and his face would be as pink as a baby boys face. At those times, they didn’t see me at all, they didn’t feel me on this planet. They were in love and there WAS also lust between them, any fool could see this and feel this, it was as real and as raw as it was when they married, back in 1939.

Those were the times when I would wander to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and stay in there, until the singing, the dancing and the clapping ceased.

They had been very successful financially, they were well-known, hard-working business owners in town. They were both orphaned as toddlers. They were both from poor immigrant families, they had worked their way to the top in every way.  They were well-respected, and highly honored, long time members in good standing of a snooty “country club” that had turned them down repeatedly when they had first applied. (due only to their middle eastern heritage) They had generously supported the local symphony for many years, as they both loved music so dearly. Their large comfortable home was affectionately referred to as the local “United Nations” as they hosted guests from all over the world regularly in their more public days. Their phone rang constantly with well wishers and loving friends, inquiring as to their health and bell being. Their door was open to any and all, even a local homeless woman was welcomed in their home regularly and invited to eat for free at their business, any time the doors were open.

I thought them to be the only perfect family that I had ever known. Their children/grandchildren/greats, were all succesful and caring, their calls and visits came often.  However, I knew that no family was ever THAT perfect, so, one day, after I had known them for a couple of years, in a moment of quiet intimacy between the wife and I, I asked her this question.

“Lilly, tell me, he seems like the perfect man, perfect father, perfect husband, but, was he?” “Was he a work- a-holic who never watched even one of his sons little league games, or was he an abusive drunk until he got sober thirty years ago, or did he cheat on you when he was young and agile?” “Was it you, were you a bitter, neglected, shop-a-holic wife, or a hungry, unfulfilled wife with a wandering eye?” “Were you addicted to pills, or any other deviant thing that is far short of who you both are today?”

The Beautiful, little round woman, looked at me with earnest sable eyes and smiled. “No darling, none of those things, the man never missed one little league game or even a scout meeting, boy or girl, and oh, how he has loved me, she shivered and rolled her eyes.  She went on, “I too, was a loving, happy, hard-working wife and mother who did an awfully lot of volunteer work for cancer research once the children were older and I had retired from the family business.” (She had survived two bouts with cancer and three strokes in her life) “No, there are no dark secrets, no skeletons in the closet, no bitterness, we just worked, played, and loved each other.”  “We adored those three babies that we had, loved them with all of our hearts, but, we never put the children above our shared love, we made one another our first priority, always, and it has worked out fine, don’t you think?” She smiled a radiant smile then, and I bowed my foolish, unbelieving head, and said “yes ma’am, it has indeed.” (they were married sixty-six years at the time of his passing, she is still alive and still quite joyful, she is still living at home at the time of this writing, she is around age 96 now, she is spoiled and adored, and much beloved by her doting family. Last year in fact, I was her traveling companion on a five generational family vacation)

Film Quote!


Image via Wikipedia

I was watching some telly yesterday evening late and at the end of a series or it might have been a movie, I don’t really remember I was so tired, the lead character said something that stuck with me:

“There is no sure-fire recipe for success, except maybe the complete acceptance of life on its own terms.”

Think about that one for a minute, it makes sense to me!