Days

If someone could have told me

These would be the days we would have

If I could have known the precise number

The exact amount of time we would share

If this day would come and not catch me unaware

Still, it would not be enough 

And my heart would cry for one more

As a child, we see life as infinite

What is has always been and will always be

Life tries to take that illusion away quickly

So our heart rationalizes loss to others

And we will always be 

We spent days on top of days together

We made magic in the eyes of a child

We made playhouses out of sheets and blankets

We made tree houses and pancakes

We made paper airplanes and memories

You tended to my needs and wants

You tended to me when I was sick

You tended to my cuts, scrapes, and bruises

You tended to my heart when it was broken

You carried me when I sleeping

You carried me when I was hurt

You carried me in your arms

You carried me on your back

You carried me on your shoulders

You carried me always in your heart

You taught me reading and math

You taught me how to fish

You taught me how to drive

You taught me how to be brave

You showed me tricks

You showed me lessons

You showed me dangers

You showed me love

I called to you from the crib by your bed

I called to you from the room down the hall

I called you from my broken down car

I called you from my own apartments and homes

I called you and you answered

You stood with me as I took my first steps

You stood with me on my first day at school

You stood for endless photos at graduations 

You stood with me when I married

You were one of my life's constants

You were never too far away 

You were never too busy in an emergency 

You always did whatever you could do

And it was usually just enough

Today

Hurt clouds the mountain of joy we shared

Sorrow obscures the sunshine from our time

Pain stains the fabric of our life shared

Today

I have exhausted my supply of ‘one mores’

While, 

We will make no more magic

There is magic to be made 

From our treasure trove

Of “Abracadabra’s” and “Alakazam's”

While, 

We will make no more pancakes together 

Or paper airplanes, or memories

I still have my lifetime of memories 

To tend to me

To carry me

To teach me

To show me

To answer me

To stand with me

It seems all of life has lost its order

But, you taught me 

Days will come

Days will pass

Life goes on

I will find your hand

Within countless memories

And we will walk and talk

In the days to come

You will never cease to be ‘my Dad’

I will always be ‘your little girl’

© Ron Simpson, Jr. 

Real

Wow, twenty years 

It was twenty years ago 

In front of family and friends 

We stood and made promises 

One to the other 

In those twenty years 

(And the eighteen months before)

There had been hard times 

There has been raucous laughter 

There have been bitter tears 

We have endured sad times 

We have held hands and hearts 

While saying goodbye to loved ones 

Family and friends alike 

There have been celebrations 

We shared with our plethora of kids 

There were times we simply held them 

As their lives and hearts were broken 

There have been joyous welcomings 

As we added to our still growing family 

There have been heart rending moments 

As some gained wings before joining us 

We have been through the gamut 

Of joys and of sorrows 

While keeping the promises 

We wrote and spoke twenty years ago 

Still, there are times 

Sometimes late in the night 

I’ll reach over in the bed 

And I’ll simply touch you 

There are still times 

When passing you in the hall

Or in the kitchen

Or sitting at a window 

I’ll reach out gently 

And touch your shoulder 

Or caress your back 

Or stroke your hair 

I’ll give you a quick hug 

Or three quick kisses 

Or hold your hand briefly 

Just to be absolutely sure 

You are real 

This is real 

My heart believes 

And simultaneously 

Cannot believe 

This is real

Twenty years plus 

I’m still not sure 

How I deserve you 

And all of this 

So, I’ll keep checking 

With a touch 

With a caress 

With three quick kisses 

Real 

Ron Simpson Jr 

October 8, 2023 

(In anticipation of 

October 11, 2023

Finding the Line

There is a line 

Some days 

It can be hard to find 

Amid the constant clamor 

In the days following 

Still in the rawness of it 

There was fear bordering panic

There was anger and rage 

There was confusion and hatred 

There was a misleading unity 

There was a quickness to blame 

And a slowness to understand 

There was a malingering suspicion 

There was, facing the world 

In full and living color 

The worst of us 

Yet, there was unity 

There was community 

There was determination and resolve 

There was a national pride  

There were, in those days 

(And seems to still be) 

Fear mongers and hope bringers 

Filling the airways 

There is a line 

Some days 

It can be hard to find 

Amid the constant clamor 

The line is between 

Panic and ignorance 

Hatred and delusion 

Fear and oblivion 

It is vigilance 

Without prejudice 

It is caution 

With respect 

It is revering 

Those who lost their lives

And those who sacrificed theirs 

To save others 

It is communities 

Helping communities 

It is one nation 

Indivisible 

It is a line for all 

Patriots, globalists 

All genders, all sexualities 

All races, all creeds 

Every day 

I strive to find the line 

And especially today 

September 11

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

September 11, 2023

The Obituary of Caring

When caring dies 

It will not be from a gaping wound 

It will not be from a sudden gushing 

It will not be a traumatic event 

It will happen 

From one small cut 

Of a thousand thousand cuts 

The bleeding will be only slight 

But one of those drops 

Will carry the last of caring 

That drop 

Will be indistinguishable 

From the rest of the blood 

Leaving a drop at a time 

It will pass mostly unnoticed 

Until the next time caring is needed 

And there is none to be found 

The last of caring has gone 

In its place is a quiet malaise 

The dull sorrow of human empathy 

As one would feel for a hurting stranger 

Will step into the place caring resided 

A disconnected concern will reign 

Try as one might 

 Concern will not attach 

It will not grow into caring 

It will stand outside the heart 

Its burden, if any, will be carried in the mind 

Memory will provide a proper response 

A dead act for a dead emotion 

Empathy becomes apathy 

Caring becomes concern 

Sorrow becomes sadness 

A shoulder becomes a place for tears 

Rather than a place to share a burden 

Without a place to reside 

The reason is left behind 

The pain leaves the mind 

Nearly as soon as we walk away 

There is no tether 

There is no bond 

Some day before today 

Caring died 

 

© Ron Simpson, Jr.

Revised September 2, 2023