Poems by Pat Fleming

The hardest part of getting old,
Is dealing with regrets,
Accepting there's no going back.
One chance is all I get.

Facing dreams that I once had
That never did come true,
And knowing they can't be achieved
And there's nothing now to do.

Recalling choices that I made
That clearly changed my life.
Times when I retreated
When I should have stood to fight.

People that I pushed away
Who only meant me well.
While holding on to other ones
Who made my life a hell.

Devoting all my energy
To the work I did each day
While investing little in myself
As my own life slipped away.

Not working hard on friendships,
Or on a family of my own.
So that now in this last stage of life,
I find myself alone.

If I had to do it all again,
It wouldn't be the same.
I'd live my life more for myself.
My priorities would change.

I would reach back more to others
Who had tried to pull me close.
And cherish all those people,
Who had cared for me the most.

I would not accept hurt or abuse
But demand love and respect.
I'd nurture those parts of myself
That I tended to neglect.

I would hope to have at least one child,
Who I'd teach and guide through life.
Who would hopefully look up to me,
And treasure my advice.

I would still find time to do my work,
One thing of which I'm proud.
It was my years in social work
That were my most profound.

But as for all the time I lost,
And the things that I can't change.
I have to let it go for good
And focus on the time that now remains.

For there are no second chances.
This is the life I made.
But I pray that by my being here,
I've made a difference in some way.

Outside my bedroom window
Stands an old majestic tree.
She's been standing there for decades,
Just as proud as she can be.

And every morning when I wake,
She's the first thing I see.
This lovely constant in my life,
So magnificent and free.

I can see the early, rising sun
Peeking through her lush green leaves.
I can hear her moving gently,
In the summer's warming breeze.

She has a personality
That she wants the world to see.
And her moods are ever changing
Behind her silent dignity.

She responds to every season,
In her own unfettered way.
All we have to do is gaze at her
To know what season's on its way.

In the Spring she comes alive again,
As her leaves begin to bloom.
And beneath the sun's attention,
You can almost see her swoon.

And in the heat of the summertime,
When her joy is magnified.
She has never looked more beautiful,
All "decked out to the nines."

And when the Fall comes creeping in,
And a chill floats on the breeze,
She prefers to don more earthy tones,
And does just what she please.

But when the Winter's looming large,
It's impossible to hide
As her barren limbs droop soulfully.
They betray her grief inside.

She's stood by me through all my days.
She's watched me laugh and cry.
She's listened so intently
While I've pondered on my life.

And when I see her dank and weary,
I will sit with her sometimes.
And all the years we've shared together
Will come rushing back to mind.

But both of us are strong and true.
We've become the closest friends,
And we will weather every storm
Together till the end.

He grew up in a town where people were poor,
In a family quite wealthy with love.
He was raised by two parents who were stable but strict
And taught him to trust God above.

The days of his youth were like everyone else,
Filled with both good times and bad.
But he learned to look forward and follow his dreams
And be grateful for all that he had.

And then at 19, it was time to escape
From the shelter and safety of home.
So he went off to the Navy in search of himself
And to finally stand up on his own.

When tragedy struck and his ship was destroyed,
Torpedoed and lost to the sea,
He learned just how quickly his whole world could change
And how frightening and short life could be.

So when he returned to family and home,
He found where his future now lied,
And he studied and worked and had children,
With the love of his life by his side.
           
And the rest, as they say, is just history,
But my story all started with him.
He raised me and loved me and taught me what's right,
And I hold him forever within.

The man I've described is my father,
A man of whom I feel so proud.
He was loving, and honest, and decent,
And his humor brought sunshine through clouds.

And it's true that today he's no longer with me.
His laughter and hugs are now gone,
But my deep love for him remains in my heart,
And his memory forever lives on.

But I hope from the heavens he still could look down,
And I hope through the years he could see
Just how hard I have strived to be just like him,
So he could still feel proud of me.

Before he crawled into his bed,
He prayed his soul to take.
Then curled up in the darkness,
And spent the night awake.

He dreaded the morning and all it would bring
But believed that it never could change.
For with the dawn of each new day,
That face in the mirror remained.

He longed to pull the covers up
And stay forever there.
And when the sun came creeping through,
He questioned if God even cared.

He grew weary from the struggle.
He longed to have one friend.
He wished they could accept him.
He just wanted to fit in.

But for him, school was a battlefield,
A place where he never felt safe.
And at times, he felt so much anger inside,
He worried how much more he could take.

He felt bruised and battered inside and out,
So he withdrew into himself.
He wanted to fight but didn't know how.
He wished that someone would help.

But he silently carried his hurt and his pain,
So ashamed that he acted so weak.
He tried not to cry and never complained.
He would take the abuse and retreat.

Sometimes he contemplated getting revenge.
Then some days he just wanted to hide.
Sometimes he thought he could kill everyone,
Then there were moments he wanted to die.

Every day he faced bullies, angry and mean.
They were always lurking out there.
They tried to destroy every ounce of esteem
And convinced him that nobody cared.

His life was a nightmare he had to endure,
And he wasn't alone in his pain.
He saw there were others who were different, like him,
And their torture and hurt was the same.

So is this the life that we wanted for them?
Should our children feel anger and fear?
And is this the legacy we'll leave behind,
Or should we save them while we are still here.

So instead of us arguing after the fact
And taking a stand that's too late,
We must teach them the value of kindness
And that differences should be embraced.

That the human spirit can be fragile and weak.
It can break in the blink of an eye.
And we must always respect others' dignity,
Or our humanity can't hope to survive.

The days of their youth remain in their hearts
And will color their future ahead.
So let's help them create a warm, welcome place,
Instead of a world filled with dread.

There's an early morning stillness,
A pure, pastoral peace.
A silence so consuming
It sedates and comforts me.

Each sound so hushed and yielding
As if on tip toes nature wakes.
It whispers soft and gently
That it's time to seize the day.

The trills and twitters of the early birds,
The crickets' mesmerizing hum.
The tickling of my eyelids 
By the timid, softer sun.

I gaze outside my window
And let the breeze caress my face,
It's chilly touch so welcoming
That I swoon in its sweet embrace.

The harsh, determined summer sun
Has grown weary and withdrawn,
And a shy and temperate autumn sun
Arrives with the rosy dawn.

It peeks through billowy cotton clouds
And casts shadows everywhere.
The earthy, musky scents of fall
Pervades the fresh, crisp air.

I feel so full and more alive,
No longer crushed by stifling heat.
I need to commune with nature again
Instead of making a fast retreat.

The pumpkins on my front porch stoop,
The crimson, russet leaves.
Hikes through the dense and piney woods
Upon paths that wend and weave.

Hayrides through the farmer's fields,
Cuddled by the fireside,
Eating candy by the five-pound bag
While taking a scenic drive.

All those classic horror movies
That help create the atmosphere,
For those ghost and ghouls of Halloween
To once again appear.

I can feel my heart so filled with thrills,
It's like I'm born again.
The only thought that cramps my style
Is that too quickly it will end.

But hail to the brilliant season of fall,
The most perfect time to me.
Immersed in her colors, aromas, and scares
Is right where I long be!