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|Date:||7/30/2017 8:02:51 PM|
|Subject:||Old San Antonio motel|
|Message:||Suzette and I were in Austin, this past week and went by what used to be the Gathering Motel. All that was left was the slab. I know it sounds stupid but, I wish that I could have gotten out and walked the slab and try to remember where every thing was, that was on the bottom floor.
When I got home, I found out that my "True Poison Red Berry" had passed away a week ago. It was tough. I cried but, was blessed with a wife that understood and was supportive.
My little Red Berry, went from Most Beautiful, in hight school to Hell the rest of her life. I sort of felt guilty. The last date I had with her, I wanted to warn her about life. Hell I didn't even know about life. I also talked to her, by phone, after we were both married. She was so depressed about her young marriage. I felt that I should have said more then, but instead, I just brushed it off, knowing that I was just being a coward.
Of course, Like Mickey used to say, Fight Your Demons with Your pen ( I guess computers now). So I made a stab at it and was angry and hurt and a bunch of emotions running through my head. I really didn't realize what I wrote until later and the tears stopped. Actually, there are a few things that I don't understand about it now.
Lord, I needed Mamie, to talk to. Would have been great to talk to Mickey again. Then again, maybe not. I called him the day my daughter, Monica, moved out and into her first apartment. He told me to write about it and I told him that I have trouble writing about my family. He said " That's the stupidest thing, I've ever heard!" He tried to give me ideas, like, a small dot of makeup on the mirror or some lip stick marks. I told him to stop before I started bawling my eyes out. I tried calling Laura Shaynes' number to see if she would take a break from all those kids and listen to me cry, but no one answered, for some reason or another. There was no peppy phone message like there use to be. I hope she's ok.
Oh, look at me, not much has changed, I'm rambling' as usual. Anyway, here's the poem and also, it's good to see the little twinkling stars again.
Fight the Demons with my pen, Mickey?
I tried but, the Demons won, and this is all that remains.
It’s the end of July
I think that’s a lie
My world is grey, wet, and cold.
The dark, wind is blowing
I’m sitting here knowing
It only gets worse, when you’re old,
She was so special
My emotions, they wrestle
I try not to let her come in.
When I think, I’m strong
My heart proves me wrong.
My tears start falling again.
Add wood to the fire
Make it burn higher!
As the chill, makes it’s way through the door.
Let the Past be, the Past
Don’t let this hurt last.
This Flower, that I’ll see, no more.
If I would have been there
To tell her how, “ I Care ”…
I guess, it wasn’t to be.
I’ll never forget
The night that we met….
Most of all, I feel sorry for me.
| Old San Antonio motel by Larry moore at 7/30/2017 8:02:51 PM|
| Re: Old San Antonio motel by Joey L at 7/31/2017 12:26:48 PM|
| Re: Old San Antonio motel by Karen Runk at 7/31/2017 2:45:43 PM|
| Re: Old San Antonio motel by Brian at 8/1/2017 4:05:38 PM|
| Re: Old San Antonio motel by Larry moore at 8/2/2017 6:03:35 AM|
| Re: Old San Antonio motel by Craig at 8/2/2017 5:21:34 PM|
| Re: Old San Antonio motel by MidnightTrisha at 8/21/2017 8:50:44 AM|