Feeling Fragile Myself

A couple of days ago, my all time sports hero Ron Santo died at the age of 70. Growing up in Chicago as a Cubs fan, I wanted to be like him. I always played 3rd base, wore the number 10, batted right handed but never even got close to being the player he was. That was ok.

I lived and died with how he played and how the Cubs did each game. More downs then ups over the years, but it is what it is.

That is it. The last of my childhood hero's are gone. I have no more.

70 seems old doesn't it? Not when one is 58. I have a sense of emptiness about me right about now. Life many times doesn't work out like one would hope.

Does It Matter

Calling out
to the sky
no answer
to be had
in return
Just the quiet
as an answer

was it enough
what was done
did it matter
does it
ever
matter

holding back
the oceans
of lost
opportunity
fix
patch
repair
to no avail

rip tides pull
one out to sea
fight the current
swept away
no one knows
a finger
in the water
leaves no mark

was it really
a wonderful life
mr stewart
no wings
no angels
no echo
in the night

fragile
vulnerable
unable
to shake
the doubts
of worth

doubts that
set in
tend to
linger