An old melancholic romantic
sits alone in an apartment
listening to an old love song
captured by the song’s lyrics
he pines for one last love
before he dies and is buried
never finding that final love
his lifeless body in a coffin
his last tears in his eyes
Bob Boyd
He’s hiking alone in a forest
and everything becomes quiet.
He senses imminent danger in
the sudden hush.
His pulse quickens, his heart
pounds faster.
He decides to hike back to
his car on the edge of the park
to escape the unseen horror.
He sees the air vibrating all
around him, his heart stops,
as he’s sucked into a vortex
Where he blacks out and
never wakes up.
He’s now a 411 statistic,
and has never been found.
Bob Boyd
He bought flowers for a girlfriend
he hadn’t seen in 40 years.
Their’s had been a teenage love
that lasted only for 2 years.
But he pined for her all his life,
never quite got over her.
When he finally got to see her
she’d been dead a few years.
He gently placed the flowers
he bought her upon her grave,
and told her he’d always love
her as tears fell from his eyes.
Bob Boyd
When he died, he saw the light,
beckoning him to enter it.
But because he had lived in darkness
as a serial killer, killing many people,
he feared and sensed the light would
capture him and take him to hell.
So he never entered it, preferring to
roam the earth as a renegade ghost,
haunting houses and people forever.
Bob Boyd
He had many loves in his life,
starting at the age of 16.
Some lasted for months,
some for years.
Some he married; some
he divorced.
None lasted permanently.
One love almost did, but
she went away sick,
preferring to be a martyr
than burden their love.
Now he’s an old man
alone and without a love.
Bob Boyd
We had everything in common.
We loved each others’ looks.
Our love life was spectacular.
But all those perks were not enough
to keep us together for more than a year.
An introvert and an extrovert and both
headstrong, we just couldn’t get along.
Bob Boyd
After reading a book of an elderly woman’s poems,
I wonder if she is still alive in this old, dry world.
I see that she has left it and wonder if any tears
fell to the ground and wet the earth in memory of her.
Bob Boyd
I loved those hippie women of the sixties and seventies,
wished I could have been with one.
I loved their free-spiritedness and their fashion sense.
I loved the song about the flower girl, imagined
how magical it would have been to meet one.
But because I wasn’t a hippie back then, though
kind of like a hippie in spirit, I never got to be with one.
Now as an old man with my memories of
those beautiful free-spirited, freewheeling hippie women,
I wish I could be with an old ex-hippie woman
to talk about things like higher consciousness, Eastern
Spirituality, the Age of Aquarius, and peace and love with.
Bob Boyd
She was just a teenager when she left this world,
stabbed and strangled to death.
Before she was murdered, she played softball
and was involved in many school activities.
And based on her involvements and great grades,
she seemed like she had a future
until she got pregnant and told her boyfriend.
Her boyfriend, just 16, didn’t want the responsibility
of a child at his age.
He asked her to get an abortion, but she refused.
Shortly after that, her corpse was found in a dumpster,
and it didn’t take a super sleuth to know who killed her.
Her murderous boyfriend now sits in prison, and
he’ll be in there for the rest of his life
while her dead body is buried at Rosewood Cemetery,
her plans, her dreams, her future destroyed.
But I believe her soul is in a heaven with her baby happier than she ever could have been on earth.
Bob Boyd
She thought she found her Prince Charming
three times.
She married those three Prince Charmings
who weren’t charming after she married them.
Now an old woman she’s given up on love.
She spends her days watching soap operas
and relates to them because she’s lived
in three marital soap operas filled with drama.
She has a toy poodle she calls Ralph,
says he’s better company than any of those
fake Prince Charmings ever could have been.
Bob Boyd