I did this call as a paramedic. As we entered the back door, stretcher in hand, we saw her - bracketed by the home care nurse and a social worker. She wore a scarf that hooded her face and her long gray hair hung dirty and straight, further indrawing her features. Her tired old dress clung to her as she held the workers on either side for support. The faded, not too clean, bodice of her dress froze agonizingly with each breath.

The caseworker said " She found her husband on the floor last week and tried to lift him up. We think she tore some rib muscles and has developed pneumonia." We started our treatment and as we worked I looked around. Every room was stacked with boxes and old newspapers, the lights were dingy and walls were dirty with soot from the old wood stove in the kitchen. It looked like the house inside had never seen the light of day and indeed through the caregiver's narrative we heard, "They lived here forty years and hardly ever came out."

My thought was, they became each others universe inside these walls. We finished up and took her to the hospital. It wasn't until two weeks later I slipped through my mind into that same kitchen, a week before we actually arrived and I found her kneeling with her dead husband in her arms and she was saying to him -

Pick me pick me. I thought maybe sometimes love has a humorous twist and could be found in the vineyard of life somewhere.

Description of the parting image of one who has left a trail of damage and destruction without realizing it.

this is a poem about how we may face difficulties in life, but it's nice to have someone who will always be there for you.

I wrote this poem for Pauline Hamblin. She has always been there for me, and been like a mother to me. She is the reason I have the courage to write poetry. This is my small way of paying tribute to her.

The heart and feelings of others are the elements that inspire me to new heights. To see through another author's work is to see into their heart. Ahhh! To hope that I can inspire others as I have been inspired would be a dream come true.

Nurses have a heart of gold . . . They are in a thankless profession and deserve a note of encouragement I know - I am a nurse.

Dedicated to all nurses everywhere, but especially those on Seton one at
Good Samaritan Hospital in Dayton, Ohio.

This poem is about finding the right and wrong girls. The first rose represents the girl that you want but you know isn't good for you and just use and abuse. The second rose is the girl that can be so rare but is so perfect.

An online acquaintance of mine recently passed away. We were AOL chatroom hosts in a forum called the HUB, in a room called Urban Legends. One of the chats we hosted was a poetry chat called Urban Legends'Coffee House. It was a two hr block of guests' original poetry. When he passed away we had a special Coffee House in his honor, and this is the poem I composed in honor of Odain.

I lay awake one night thinking about what people may go through when their time on Earth has finally elapsed. For these, I pity.