Secrets in a box

I have a box on the shelf in the spare bedroom
The box has blue and white stripes, I think
It was a shoebox, perhaps bought for a child that
I was not born; my youth is in that box
Sometimes, when alone, I open the box, and it has
many photos of life lived in the seventies
Many friends are smiling for the camera
My ex-wife, too. What they have in common is
that they are all dead
I received a delayed letter from Alex, a friend  
By then, I knew he had died, the letter in the box
unopened 
I look at the photos like a visitor from a past life
I do not feel sorrow or guilt. I was a difficult 
person to live with, even though I had friends
that loved me
I put the lid back on the box. The visit is over
I must go on living in the now.

What music can do 

Last night, all night, I listened to music
and my heart cried not in sorrow but
It flew away and soared in the beauty
of the human voice
No. I was not there in person, but that
Didn't matter; it was about the beauty
of us, yes, we are a great race, so
Why the hatred that is on those
who hate to hear our jubilant voice
I'm a poet dreaming that I once could
Write a poem bringing humanity into
a circle of love

We who loved America 

I enjoyed  America and remember touring 
a Sunday outside Houston (Texas), met in a café
a group of openly armed, elderly men 
They were courteous people one could meet 
I understood guns have cultural meaning
In America, we in Europe don't understand 
I remember a saying, "A country where the populace 
is armed, people are polite."
I stayed on the ship longer than needed, but had
To go home and get educated, I studied management 
and later ran a restaurant 
I was never at ease in my country, not that I suffer
Retromania, trying to escape my past, but
I was back on a ship again, this time as chief steward
plying the waters of America and the Caribbean.

Russet Moon 

The moon tonight had a promise
of turning russet
When I looked up, the moon was
full and yellow and had a smile
on a round happy face
What can I say? Was I too late to 
See what Planet Watchers had 
longed for
Since from the kitchen window
It was the best place to observe
The moon, I made a cheese sarnie 
and a glass of low-fat milk.

The Ending

The only tree left in the  whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors 
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light, and the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs killing their own
A war cry, after us, there will be no one
The enemy of peace will be vanquished
even when we too died

Insubstantial
I opened the window in the door, one early morning.
and was met with a face that looked like a cloud; it
blew frost roses on the glass, they were so beautiful,
abstract, and oh, so fragile.
Years ago, by the cloister's wall, I saw some miniature
Looking at roses, I replanted them in my garden, and they
disappeared, I thought they had died out, but this spring
They were by my wall, nodding shyly in the breeze.
As the spring turned into summer, they had no shade
and disappeared like frost roses on the window glass;
And that is ok by me, cause I know they are there just
under the earth, waiting for another spring.

The Breakup 

How cruel I was
cold shoulder against love
no reconciliation 
her heart was as cold
as mine
The night was endless
The day saved by a dog
I had some news beginning
but without her
She was not a part
It ended fairly 
She had a home, but not
near
My aloneness was great
the dog and I, in the forest
unruffled by reality 
Eating lunch in a beautiful
café, she came in and I 
desired her greatly 
I was in love, wrote hot
poems nothing could
ever go wrong
We know, life is perfect 
I had tiered her out;
She wanted to be free 
Freedom is a must, but
When freedom hurts those
We love, we have failed