Miranda is a once popular woman who never thought she'd be alone but now sadly is. She spends her Sundays at a local poolside hangout vicariously living the lives of those around her but not happy in her pretense. I met her one Sunday.

Dennis had been my friend for many years and now he had cancer and was dying. His chemotherapy was predictably causing hair loss. He was concerned about this and called me from his home in central Florida and asked me to get him an FSU cap. He also asked that I not make too much of his illness to his friends in Tallahassee. Tallahassee has two state universities, Florida State (the Seminoles) and Florida A&M (The
Rattlers). I sent him a cap and this poem.

ed. note...Jean Luc Picard and Wayne Dickey have fine bald heads, as does the author. Dennis wore the hat for several months before he passed away.

This was written as a sort of tribute to the old cops; the ones who never made detective or moved up the ranks. The cops who find themselves answering calls that maybe they shouldn't be answering anymore. But the pension is still a few years away . . .

This poem was written in response to a posting on this site. The poet had written a beautiful poem about her temptation to stray from a serious relationship for someone she found new and exciting. This poem seeks to tell her that her decision has to be lived with.

This is written for the folks who think they can't find love. Sometimes there's someone standing there who sorta needs a shove . . .

This poem is fiction. It's my first attempt to write a poem about something that doesn't have basis in the personal experience of myself or my friends. It's the story of one stormy night in the life of a man living a solitary existence and mourning the loss of his love.