Delicately, as if my health were as fragile as dried leaves,
Isabelle danced through my room on her tippy-toes,
Silent as a churchmouse, just as she promised.
Time has been unkind to us; I aged more rapidly than she,
Ravages of a partying past caught up to me at last, while Isabelle
Alone has thrived, so beautiful, angelic even, my lovely lass.
Can I not rouse myself to love her still? To thrill her as before?
To take my darling dancing on the hardwood, to the music score?
I'll do it! Bring my finest coat and tails and Isabelle and I will go!
Oh, darling, go without me. I'm too old. My body cannot take it.
No, really, Belle. Dance, laugh, and have your fun. I can't make it.
About the Creator
Mack D. Ames
Tongue-in-cheek humor. Educator & hobbyist writer in Maine, USA. Mid50s. Emotional. Forgiven. Thankful. One wife, 2 adult sons, 1 dog. Novel: Lost My Way in the Darkness: Jack's Journey. https://a.co/d/6UE59OY. Not pen name Bill M, partly.
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More stories from Mack D. Ames and writers in Poets and other communities.
Orange You Glad?
"Blaze orange, really?" Everyone expresses surprise at my choice of paint. I was ten then, and autumn's palette tantalized my vision. "Pick one" was my parents' requirement; it could not be a collage. Heatless, too, I reasoned this hue would warm my body and soul in winter.
By Mack D. Ames3 years ago in Poets
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
Brilliant work, Mack D. Ames.