(Where my Rosemary Goes) 1970. Over 18 million hits on YouTube. Lucky fellas.
Magical, mystical song, still popular with those who hear it.

And wow, that Rosemary—maybe ethereal, surely surreal—never forget her.
One in a million, a mysterious goddess among women.

Every young man’s dream, the greatest fantasy female ever; the song is so clever, it makes you believe Rosemary’s really a goddess. Maybe she was. Maybe she still is.

O Rosemary, beautiful, mind-blowing, ultimate; you should have been the love of my life.

O Rosemary, why did I never meet an amazing, magical, enchanting woman like you?

And like the song says, “I would have loved you endlessly.”

But woe upon woes, you never existed except in that beautiful, make-believe tribute song, which I will always love and never tire of, no matter how many times I hear it.
Listening to it now. Love grows….

Bob Boyd

She sits in a wooden chair
with her long red hair
beautiful and allure
and looking at me
with the most beautiful eyes
that keep mesmerizing me
with feelings of love for her

it’s hard for me to look away
from her captivating stare
and the more she looks at me
and I look at her
the more I feel like being married to her

but, alas, it’s only unrequited love
for I’m just a human
and she’s just a painting
but I keep wishing she would walk
out of that painting and into my life
and be my loving wife

Bob Boyd

My betta fish is looking at me.
I don’t know if the look is for
food or curiosity.
I do know when I wave at him
he gets excited like a rapid
tail-wagging doggy.
I’d like to think he’s happy to see
me, but he’s probably just
hoping I’ll feed him more food.

Bob Boyd

Maybe the Hedonists have it right,
live for today, party all night.
Drink away you worries
and drown your concerns.
Live for today, party all night.
Forget about politics and the news,
who needs all that blues.
Party on, dance and shout,
enjoy life while you can;
before you know it, we’ll all be old
women and men.
Too old to party, maybe on a walker
on in a wheelchair,
eventually a corpse in the grave.
Screw that, party, have fun, be merry
while you can.

Bob Boyd

Now I see with the wisdom of age and spirituality
that even though you loved me for only
two summers and left me for another,

that even if you had stayed with me and got married
to me, our romance would have ended just like
those two summers — but when one of us died.

Thus, those two wonderful summers were enough for me,
like living in a teenage fairy tale that
was going to last ever after.

Though the ending broke my innocent, young heart,
I grew stronger and wiser in my relationships
with women thereafter.

And at least our romance didn’t end with one of us dying,
leaving irreparable grief in the heart of the other, as would
have happened if we had spent a lifetime together.

Bob Boyd

A fruit fly had grown old and ill
on his 13th day of living
he knew his lifespan of 14 days
was nearing its final hours
in his mind’s eye he saw
his whole life passing before him
and pause for a moment to see
a gorgeous female fruit fly
he mated with on day 7
and he remembered how being
with her was like being in heaven

Bob Boyd

Lying in a hospice bed, she feels death coming

at last, at last

a sigh of relief escapes her lips

before her final breath

she senses something above her

she looks up and smiles

in radiant white light her husband is waiting

she reaches up with both hands

and he pulls her soul into heaven

Bob Boyd

I saw you in a dream twice last night,
and I felt I knew you, though
we never met in this life.
I thought you were Spanish, but
you said you were Spanish and Italian.
You were in my arms suddenly, and I
liked the feeling.
Then you were gone but appeared
again as I wandered a city street.
We talked for a while as you stood
so endearingly close to me.
Pity I didn’t get your name and will
never see you again.
After all, it was only a dream.
But a part of me hopes it was more
than a dream.

Bob Boyd

Oh, those nights and days of passion.
Oh, how incredibly good they felt.
And you were unforgettably talented
at pleasing me, and I you.
Though it wasn’t enough to hold our
relationship together,
it was enough to keep me often
remembering how good it was with you.

Bob Boyd

An old man now, when he wakes up
his body is so stiff, sometimes sore.
He thinks to himself, maybe early
rigor mortis is setting in.
At times he sees himself as just
waiting to die.
At other times he likes his shrunken,
reclusive life.
Sometimes he wishes death would
just get it over with,
take him out of his waning life.
At other times, he’s enjoys the little
pleasures of what remains of his life.
All the time he’s more keenly aware
of the impermances of this life.
And he accepts that he is temporary
as well.
And he’s okay with Death coming to
take him him away, any time, any day.

Bob Boyd