Poem

Christmas Tree

~ Ron Walker ~ 12 Comments

In 1998 Michelle and I had lost everything we owned and were living in a small borrowed 18 foot AirStream trailer. It was complete with scorpions that would hunt for warmth in our bed, as the little trailer had more holes in and around it than Swiss Cheese. Michelle was a real bright spot for the kids and I, so I wrote this for us… It comes from my Collection of Poems. 

Christmas Tree

There will be no Christmas Tree this year, She says she understands…
Things have happened to us both, that were just out of our hands.
And like the baby Jesus, that had hay for a bed that night…
At least we have a roof and warmth, and can hold each other tight. 
  

There will be no pretty blinking lights, to brighten up the night…
But the stars are free, and we can see, as we hold each other tight.
And like the baby Jesus, who had his own star on that night…
We will pick our very own, to remind us of this night. 
  
 
There will be no Christmas Tree this year, she says she understands…
For some are not as fortunate, as to hold their true love’s hand.
And some will sleep upon the ground, and feel the chill too deep…
Some will drift off quietly, and never wake from sleep. 
  
 
There will be no Christmas Tree this year, but I’m glad I have her here…
And we will dream of better times, and dry each other’s tears.
So before you fuss about the gifts, that are not right there to see…
Think about the two of us, We’d settle for your tree.

© Ron Walker, December 1998

Merry Christmas to everyone, from Ron and Michelle.

Fall (Poems by Ron)

~ Ron Walker ~ 12 Comments

Fall…

Fall is in the air, and winter sends its  greetings, the air is fresh, clear and crisp, I see my breath take wing.

The birds are heading south again, the squirrels are working hard…
It’s the time of year I think of you, as I walk across the park.

Soon the sounds of caroling, will fill the air at night…
And lovers will walk and talk out here, and hold each other tight.

The holidays will make us smile, and bring hearts closer still…
And when the wind blows low and cold, our hearts won’t feel the chill.

Young eyes will sparkle from the lights, that dance upon the trees….
And we will walk, and talk, and love, and wish upon the leaves.

It’s time for things to sleep and wait, for spring to come again…
But to miss the winter of our love, would truly be a sin.

I will hold you through the cold, and love you till the spring…
And be here holding onto you, when the birds return to sing.
 

Ron Walker September 1998

Our Monument… (Poems by Ron)

~ Ron Walker ~ 13 Comments

Our Monument…

How could I ever repay you, for the kindness that you’ve shown?
I could build for you a monument, of beautiful wood and stone.

But it could never show the world, the softness that you share.
The things you’ve given of yourself, the way you truly care.

I could never build it high enough, to touch the evening sky
The way you’ve touched my heart within, but I would love to try.

It would never match the way you walk, though it’s curves would show the grace.
Although a thing of beauty, it would remain in just one place.

Upon it I could place wind chimes, to catch the evening breeze.
But they could never sound as soft, as your voice, as you call to me.

With precious stones, I could cover it, for all the world to see…
But they would dim in comparison, to your eyes so beautiful green.

So I will build a smaller one, so all the world can see…
A simple statue of a heart, with a picture of you and me.

I’ll leave the stones and statues, for people that have passed.
Our love will be our monument, and forever it shall last.

Ron Walker July 1999

A Poem for this week. “Our Time”

~ Ron Walker ~ 14 Comments

Our Time…

Be still my darling, and hold my hand for me…
The sounds are getting quieter, and things are hard to see.
I’m not afraid, like I thought I’d be, though I see you’re weeping so…
If it were in my power, I’d be the last to go.

But mourn not for my passing, rather think upon the day…
When we shall stand again together, and I shall touch your face.
So in the nights that feel alone, and you need me to be there…
Go to where we used to meet, where once I touched your hair.

Look upon the heavens, and try to see our star…
You know that I’ll be watching you, I’ll never be too far.
And when the cold winds blow your hair, and mist falls on your face…
Stand and whisper to the wind, “I love you” from our place.

When your time to meet me comes, and things are hard to see…
You’ll feel my hand, and hear my voice, beside you I will be.
Silently we’ll walk along, the paths we used to walk…
And forever in the soft night winds, together we will talk.

© Ron Walker December 1998

This was written for a friend that had just lost his wife. They were an older retired couple, both had been physical therapists. She had suffered a protracted illness. He said towards the end, she was always telling him she worried how he would do when she was gone. After her passing he asked me to write something for them since I knew them both. I wrote this, I told him that it is what she would probably have wanted to say.

Comments always welcome,