Posts Tagged ‘growing old’

Christmas with Gene Autry and years gone by

Christmas is my favorite time of year … always has been.  When I was a kid, putting up the decorations in our home was my favorite time of year; and every year Gene Autry was on the record player … morning, noon, and night.  There came a time when I moved on from all those things, and didn’t listen to Gene Autry, didn’t decorate trees, and let Christmas come and go in stride.  I hoped the few times back home, over the years, that I could recapture some of the Christmas spirit that was there in my youth, but … it, and everyone, just like me, had moved on.  Not to say that those trips weren’t enjoyable; just not ideal.  There was still the little pin holes in the ceilings from years of hanging streamers, and looking at those always gave me a smile.  It wasn’t until Tara was born in 2002 that Gene Autry made a come back, and when Alyssa arrived in 2004, he was still going strong … indeed, he still is today … I’m on the return leg of my trip through life now, the nostalgia portion … what was in, that went out, is back in again … and long may it live … “Merry Christmas folks … where ever you may be” …

Worth a Christmas Spin …



© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

Hindsights and Perceptions

Days and days of rain.
Was it ever any other way?
All of those days,
Perpetual darkness and gloom.
Did the sun not ever shine?
It must have.
It must have.
Didn’t it?
I just don’t remember.
I just don’t.
Why is that I wonder?
All those years.
Even when I look back now,
It’s rain I remember
And nothing much else.
But I’m sure there must have been more.
Wasn’t there?

© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

Every Now And Again

Every now and again
I look at you,
Captured there in a moment,
Mid sentence,
The way I remember you.
And I think of those days
Those days
Those days when we were young,
Those days when all we needed,
And all we had,
Was each other and a dream

Every now and again
I think of late night talks,
And starry island nights
And promises made,
If not to you
At least to me,
And if not believed by you
At least by me,
Only to be dismissed in later days,
And seen,
As you did back then,
As romantic notions
Dreamed of
In romantic places.

Every now and again
I look at you,
And wonder,
And pause,
And drift away,
And feel that old familiar feeling.
But all too soon it fades,
Surrendering to another pause,
One that reminds of today,
And yesterdays that are gone,
Put away like your photographs,
And memories
That can only be relived

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville


No one runs in a graveyard.
No one shouts.
It is peaceful,
Walking amongst those who came before.

Tip toe and listen to the silence,
Whisper the names of those you meet.
For most of those you chance upon,
You are their only visitor,
Save the daily procession of  new arrivals.

Who were all these people?
What lives did they live,
The same as I do now?
Did we share the same fears?
And joys?
And hopes?
And dreams?

Did they live lives fulfilled
Or take regret with them?
If given one more day to live,
What is it do you suppose they would do?
Where would they visit?
Who would they see?
What words of advice would they speak?
I can only imagine it would be magnificent,
Throwing off all the veils of a superficial life,
And living for one more day,
A lesson learned only in death.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Without Wings (Revised)

When I was young
It was the little things,
Those things in later life ignored,
That gave me moments of unrest.
The big picture too abstract
Too far removed,
Something to be pondered in later days
Those days have come and gone.

I would like to think it not my fault
My life now lived in a role of minion
The dream once dreamed no longer real
Or even within reach,
Left for other fools to folly with
And ponder in their later years.

Now I am grown and life has moved on.
I punch a clock
I grind an anvil
I serve my time.
I have a regiment of should haves
And could haves and would haves
But they too have grown tired
They too have grown old.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

random lines

Once we were young
Then along came time
And like an unrequited teenage crush
Stole our innocence away

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

California Farmers Market

Every week I see them
Walking their casual pace
Speaking their laid-back gibberish
Believing their youthful nonsense
That life will always be like this.
The girls bubbly and poised
The boys plucky and brave
Neither trodden by experience
Their dreams still unharmed.
Under my breath I mutter
“Christ I envy you so.”

Worry free
Care free
I was once like that
I too wore carefree smiles
Before the lines of life crept in.

Should I stop them
Warn them
Plead some crazy man’s case?
Scream “your time is now!”
Live in the moment but know it is so
Tomorrow creeps ever so quickly
Swallowing whole your today
And then it is gone.

A century ago we lived as we do now.
People made memories
Pondered regrets
And lived lives like generations past.
The same lives
Always the same.
And now in today’s world
A world recycled by time,
The same lessons are being lived
The same lessons learned
Only to be lost again
To time.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville