Card games

Old postcards

from more than

a century ago

tell the stories

of a happy group

of friends, now all

long dead, their

outings, and plays,

and sport, and loves,

and losses, all gone.

Their innocence

went first though,

this last generation

not to know what

a world war would

bring to their happy lives.

I feel like warning them –

“Hey, watch out, bad

times are coming, and

some of you will die

and others weep,

make the most

of your last sunny days.

But they cannot hear

and their ghosts

are fading like

the ink on the card.

I breathe, therefore I am


I am

breathing in,

breathing out,

like all the other

living creatures

sharing this planet

and this air.

But more,

that air has been

shared by all the creatures

who ever lived,

been refreshed by

all the plants

that ever grew,

since the beginning

of Earth time.

Each new breath

combines all the

old breaths of creatures,

and people, long gone.

Each breath is a kind

of immortality,

existing long after

each of us has

taken our last breath,

passed on to each of

us taking our

first breath