Artwork by NiePytajONicTender is the heart that breaks at night when hurt will come and cause such ache and sleep will never come to stop the tears that fill the deep dark lake.
A kindly word could change things but so rarely is it heard it would show the pain is understood but she never hears a word.
He lies there too in his own thoughts not beginning to understand they loved each so much one time their life now is not as was planned.
But how very different it could have been if only they had both spoken it had only needed some kindness and now both their hearts are broken.
Tender is the heart at night that loves as it searches for its soul-mate it needs to feel that it is cherished before it suddenly gets too late.
Tender is the lonely heart tender the lonely soul pride can make you drift apart but your heart will bear the toll.
Daphne & I, and our children. Our son was on holiday from New Zealand and our daughter was up from London.
The dark night now surrounds me I am all alone in my world There is no one here distracting I am thinking now of my girl.
I was always such a lucky man I have children, one and two Last year I almost lost my son This year my daughter too.
My son had a head-on collision Almost twelve thousand miles away But now almost eighteen months later He is now fully back into play.
But my daughter, my beautiful daughter Chemo treatment made her go bald But she’s back on the upside now smiling I weep when her bravery’s recalled.
Of course she will still need some treatment But she’s better, and we’re now almost cool And I know by the end of her kid’s holidays She’ll not need a headscarf for school.
I think of my son, I think of my girl I’m grateful my luck has been fine For if I was to lose either one of them I just couldn’t finish this last line……….
He could hear the steady beat in his ears it was the only sound there was sometimes and was the most comforting sound ever made but he knew this was not the only sound as he sometimes felt rather than heard something making other gentle sounds and when the something moved he had no choice, he moved too.
Something in the distance would make noises back though that thing didn’t seem quite so gentle somehow and where he was he felt very safe and comfortable but although he couldn’t see anything he felt he was on a journey that would soon be over and then – he would see everything.
Then one day he was there he was surrounded by brightness and moving things making strange noises at him that he didn’t understand and which made him cry.
But soon and very gently he was placed next to a thing that he instinctively knew was his Mother. It was the most beautiful thing that he could have ever imagined.
The garden looks lovely at this time of day but an essential is no longer here for without your feel for its Gaia It’s not really a garden now I fear.
I touch a rose and see your beautiful face in hibiscus and camellia I see it there too but it misses your gentle encouragement and their beauty just doesn’t shine through.
I sit on a small garden bench in the shade and I think of the things that we said tears start to fall and they just cannot stop how I wish for those good times instead.
I’ll carry on tending our garden I know that you’d like it that way
but the magic that lived in the garden is no longer to be found there each day.
They set out together a long time ago there was a keenness to their gait whatever was going to be thrown at them they’d take in their stride and then leave to fate.
They made many new friends along the way with hearts so stout and true and some friends are with them still today ’cause they’re good people through and through.
Their journey took them far and wide it has been one hell of a ride there were hardships aplenty along the road but they never left each other’s side.
And now they are here in the twilight years the journey’s not over for them yet the gait is less keen and they have their fears but they’ve got plenty of mileage in them yet.
Sometimes we return to long ago conversations where more than cross words were uttered where protagonists squared up to one another and arguments and insults were uttered.
And when with the benefit of hindsight, that most magical and wondrous thing we realise often how wrong we were and the knowledge of embarrassments sting.
If we could just take back those words that were aimed to wound so deep knowing how they’d hit their mark and said to make someone weep.
In those teenage years, how cruel we were how very little of life we knew how gentle and forgiving our heart’s desire how slow the understanding – in young men grew.
I’m now a man – three score and five a man who love has touched so deep but I colour now as I think back at my cruelty then and I want to weep.
For almost fifty years I’ve loved just one kindness flows through her every pore I’ve strived to make up for those teenage years and she just smiles and then loves me more.
My luck has held, we’ve stayed the course I pinch myself to check I can still feel and she looks and smiles at me and I know it’s not a dream and it’s still real.
One in three people over 65 will develop dementia and there is currently no cure. GETTY IMAGES
Wizened by the hardships of his life he moved his tired old body to the edge, it took him longer to get out of his bed these days, but get up he would for if there was one thing he had learnt it was that time spent in bed was time lost in the fields and the crops didn’t pick themselves, of that he thought he was sure, though he couldn’t quite remember why.
He sometimes wished that he had not been so adamant about farming in the old way – a bit of that confounded modern machinery would sure help sometimes as digging potatoes across all those acres was hard work and he’d been doing it for so long he was beginning to hate the blasted things – he certainly never ate them, preferring instead to eat all his food from cans as a way of getting his own back on some other poor so and so who probably hadn’t broken his back at harvest time for sixty years.
Dad – Dad – it’s Tom , Dad, your son, never mind Dad, perhaps you’ll remember me later. It’s alright. What potatoes? – It’s alright Dad, let’s sit here and you can tell me – no please – please Dad, don’t cry – please don’t cry. I know Dad I miss Mum too. I wish I could explain Dad I really do.
Why does this horrible man always keep me from my work, I’ve got tomatoes – – potatoes to pick, tomatoes, potatoes, well I’ve got to pick them anyway. Why should I sit down? Tell you about what? I’m not going to tell a stranger where my potatoes are, or is it tomatoes? I’m not sure now. I must sleep – I’ve got lots to do, I must be fresh when I start.
Dad – Dad – you sleep now then. I’ll just be in the next room. Perhaps – perhaps we’ll talk a bit later. I miss you Dad………….
Jovis on a Journey... 