Today is the Date

Today is the date that

John Lennon was shot.

Each year at this time

It affects me a lot.

Not for John Lennon,

Though I was a fan,

But for somebody else,

Whose death wasn’t the plan.

My dad had a bypass,

But still was alive,

When I heard on the news 

Lennon didn’t survive.

Yet sadly, my father,

Two days later died,

So it was for him

All the tears that I cried.

Still, every December

The eighth, when I think

Of my dad, I remember

The John Lennon link.

Two fine men passed away 

Well before it was time

And though one was a murder,

Both felt like a crime.

Property Of

My pencil isn’t really mine

Because it says, instead,

That it’s the “Property of

NYC Bd of Ed.”

 

I taught in New York City schools

And, once I had retired,

There were some school supplies that I

Had suddenly acquired:

 

Like pens and pencil, post-it-notes,

Some staples, chalk and paper.

It wasn’t quite enough to be

A teacher school-theft caper.

 

I’ve been retired fifteen years

And no one has come looking.

I suspect my current pencil

Won’t land me in Central Booking.

Leftover Wool

When my knitting queen aunt

Feels that needlework pull,

She starts knitting some squares

Using leftover wool.

They’re rectangles, really,

With colorful stripes,

Their patterns and stitches 

Of similar types.

Then when there are enough,

Using needle and thread,

She will sew them together 

To cover a bed.

If no blanket’s requested

By someone she knows,

To a charity’s stockpile

That handiwork goes.

Though some unattached pieces

My aunt did produce 

Found their way to my granddaughter 

For a new use.

Now her dolls all have blankets,

Two interests in sync,

Crossing ages and miles

In such a sweet link.

A Life in T-Shirts

Going through a closet,

I was quite surprised to find

Several shopping bags of t-shirts

That my son had left behind.

 

While looking at them, one by one,

I realized they portrayed

His entire growing up, through college,

Starting in first grade.

 

The school shirts featured P.S. 6,

Then Wagner Junior High,

With a special few from Stuyvesant,

Where high school years flew by.

 

Another group had characters

From movies or TV –

Pee Wee Herman, Austin Powers

And the Simpsons’ family tree.

 

There was Beavis, there was Butthead

And the South Park kids, as well

As World Series shirts and Yankees;

(We’re New Yorkers, you can tell).

 

Favor shirts from his Bar Mitzvah

Nestled near the travel trove –

Shirts from Scotland and from Israel,

Plus some places where we drove.

 

Then the final category,

From his favorite billiards hall,

Where the hours spent resulted

In those plaques upon his wall.

 

As a grown-up and a parent,

His collection’s surely grown,

But I love these sweet reminders

Of his younger self I’ve known.

A Carpet of Gold

Just ‘round the corner,

A carpet of gold,

From the branches of ginkgos,

Was there to behold.

 

The lovely-shaped leaves

Also covered some cars,

So you couldn’t tell Hondas

From sleek Jag-u-ars.

 

I waded through piles,

Their yellow so bright

That all who walked by

Got a dose of delight.

 

In a matter of days,

Nature’s vacuum will sweep

All that carpet away,

Likely while we’re asleep.

A Holiday Fair

I went to a holiday fair.

Many craftsmen and shoppers were there.

All the goods on display

Were well-worth what you’d pay

If you had extra money to spare.

 

Yet not one little thing did I buy

And in case you were wondering why,

It’s that all of my stuff

Seems to be quite enough

So I look and walk on, with a sigh.

 

I would purchase a lot in my youth,

Checking out every kiosk or booth,

But that hunger is gone;

I will pass the baton

To each tourist or craft-seeing sleuth.

Time to Remember

It’s time to remember,

When we hit December,

How quickly the time seems to fly.

We drift through life’s stages

As calendar pages

Proclaim that the year’s slipping by.

 

We mark off the seasons

For no other reasons

Than habit and need to keep track,

Yet the forward momentum

Makes days – how we spent ‘em –

Worth little, for we can’t go back.

 

So each month we’re still living,

There’s time for forgiving

And blocking out things that annoy.

Every day of the week

We should wake up and seek

Something out there to bring us some joy.