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Richterís flood tide
Richter awoke as the morning alarm persistently spoke,
to see that he was alone,
to see that his corporate love had already dressed and gone.
The dust from her wagon no longer airborne.
Richter had the vague sense of being spoken to during his sleep.
It felt forlorn.
He looked at the empty driveway and sensed the silence.
Richter too was silent.
Then he looked across, looking his carís headlights full in the eyes,
but they spoke nary a word.
Richter too found all expression put to the sword.
However, he noticed pain was at his door, its dusty boots seeping onto the floor,
the well-known lore.
So, this was how the day was shaping up to moor, on this inbound tide to his shore.
Richter said to himself, leached out by Alzheimerís care demands.
Richter thought to himself, thinned out by the demands of corporate life.
Richter contemplated with himself, the selfish dynamics of family relations.
Richter considered the thread baring effect of the demands of old age care.
All leaches, stripping the life out of relationships, yet they called it love.
Richter would not dock there. The day had to hold more wares.
He would flow with the morning. Make himself breakfast and with a nice shirt adorning,
start his day with its own new dawning, the moody shadows shorning.
The inner seas he would calm, and the waves would be his balm.
Knight Truelove Poems CI-496702515