Silent tears fall

As I remember years gone by.

Happiness traded

Sadness in my eyes.
Oh, can’t I dream you

Back into my life again?

Give me a reason for living 

I really need a friend again.
I’m so sick of pretending 

That life’s going good. 

I don’t like these new changes

I could not say that I would.
Please fill up my void

Take my pain all away.

I don’t want anymore

I want to begin a new day.
Written by my feelings, 

Terry Shepherd

Strength in One

I have a neighbor, who is a gentleman,  who is also inflicted with Parkinson’s. When I first moved here, some hinted to stay clear of him, because he was weird.

I am usually one who listens, but then have to decide for myself.  I knew he lived alone. I don’t know if he has ever been married or has children. 

One evening I enjoyed a treat I had made. After supper dishes were done, I looked at how much goodies I still had. I instantly thought of the man next door. 

I put my shoes on and with token of friendship,  I knocked on his door.  After waiting a few minutes,  the door opened and he invited me in.

I wasn’t afraid. Normally I wouldn’t step over the threshold but I knew I was safe.

I handed him my food gift and a friendship was born. Since that day, I have taken him food gifts at times. I may visit him more but he is rarely home.

I have watched him exercise.  I know he is a retired mechanic.  I have observed his brilliant mind as he shows me his creative inventions. He is polite and very knowledgeable about life and politics.

You know why people say stay clear of him? Because he wobbles and falls. He sounds like a race horse when he walks.  He somehow rides a small scooter. He is strength in one,  fighting to keep and live his life.

If there are errors on words and punctuation on my short story,  please forgive me,  I am writing this from my cellphone. 



What do you dream about when you lay your head down and sleep?
Do you dream of people gone to heaven?
Do you dream you are a child?
Are your dreams; real and deep?

What do you feel when you wake from a dream?
Have you felt tears on your pillow?
Have you felt you were actually there?
Do you feel you closed the open seam?

Did you see visions of your loved ones?
Perhaps a parent or a spouse?
Or did you see the dragons,
Chasing you until they won?

Our dreams are our real thoughts
Most we can’t express.
We keep them in our memories
Because this is all we got.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd



Just A Little Inspiring Story I Wrote

She sat in her sewing chair, knitting another pair of mittens that went with matching hats. These were going to be Christmas gifts for her grandchildren.

Money was tight and she didn’t want to not get them anything, so she decided to make gifts instead of buying useless gifts. Annie was an old maid. She had never had any real dream of getting married nor did she meet any nice man who turned her head.

She worked in a factory in the deli area. She enjoyed her job for many years until arthritis took over and left her body useless in keeping up with the fast pace.

She retired and became the grandma or granny on the block. Kids knew if they were hungry or needed help and had no where to turn; they could always count on Grandma. Each child she met, soon became her life and her grandchild.

She was short, under five feet, but her strength in humanity was over the sky. She loved everyone. She didn’t much care if they loved her back. She would still find something good in each person.

Her home was beginning to fall apart, so the community came together and put it back to stable condition again. This included a new heating and air conditioning system. Granny didn’t care much for the cool air; but she sure appreciated the good heat.

When she felt well enough she baked cookies and made big pots of soup. There was a corner market close by and she would gather her purse with her bit of money and walk to the market and get all the day old vegetables she could. She would purchase the fatty bacon or end parts of meat and big soup bones. This is how she fed the little ones who looked so thin.

It was December 1st. The cold temperatures seemed to hit Granny hard. Weather forced her to stay inside more and she didn’t see her favorite kids too much. She couldn’t wait until the weather changed and life became livable again.

She had been spending the better part of the past two weeks making Christmas cards for her neighbors. Each one was cut from paper and she carefully drew a picture and wrote a small line of Merry Christmas.

She finally completed this task and licked the last stamp. She got her boots and coat on. She wrapped a shawl around her mouth and ears.

She went outside towards the mailbox. About two feet away, she lost her balance and fell. She cracked her head against an over-sized rock. She felt blood oozing from her nose and ears. She lay there in pain, praying for someone to see her.

The snow was deeper than usual. She knew she should have not come outside, but her grandchildren needed to know she cared and she was bent on getting these cards out.

Someone did come by and saw her. Calling for 911, the neighbor waited for help to arrive. The EMT’s lifted her into the ambulance, but poor Granny was weak and old, and she died on the way to the hospital.

Her home was decorated by the neighbors and her grandchildren. Sparkly stars rested on fallen snow. Twinkling lights shone through snowflakes on her bushes. A handmade sign and burning candles could be seen from the street. The sign read, We love you and miss you Grandma. We will never forget you; ever.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd

I Want to Live, Mentally

When you are younger than I and live a “normal” life, you may not be able to get the picture in your mind of my story. If you are disabled or elderly and confined to your four walls, you may understand perfectly.

I get so tired of the silence here in my room. I have the TV and the radio and my cellphone. After a while, those become concrete statues also. After, I run out of things to occupy my mind, I will grab my walker, go downstairs and check my mail, and if I am fortunate, I will find other people sitting on their walkers or in their wheelchairs, congregated and chatting.

I desperately don’t want to participate in this group, but I want them to save my life on the other side. I sit down on my walker and I listen and look. I look at each face, mentally comparing it to mine.

I check out their clothes, their  hands, their hair color and styles. I am not snoopy or better than them. I am comparing them to my own body. Does that make sense? I listen to them talk about the puzzles they worked on that day, what they had for lunch. Sometimes they talk about how they didn’t make it to the bathroom in time.

There are times I laugh with them, and if I can find something similar in my life that I did that day; I will add it to the conversation. Other times, I come back to my four walls and feel so depressed and almost in tears.

You may be asking, why did she move there, because she knew what type of people lived there.  That would be a good question and the answer is; I didn’t have much choice. Opportunities didn’t come in time and I needed a place to live. I didn’t want to move out of where I had resided the past year, but things happen, right?

This place worked because I am on disability and almost a legal senior citizen, but my mind is not. With having my illness, I should be so thankful for this place, but having this illness forces me to realize that life is shorter in quality of life, and therefore; I want to live.

I am not mentally ready to put puzzles together. I am not mentally ready to sit on my scooter all day or in a wheelchair. I fight back tears when I look around me and all I see are people just like those in the photograph.

I want to laugh. I want to run. I want to play. I want to live life before I am wheelchair bound. Seeing those already seated in my waiting spot, makes me ill. I want to pack my bags and hit the road, never looking back.

Of course, I want a lot of things, like most of us. For me, I want to rid this illness. I want to walk by myself without aide, but some things I have to face, I can not change. I want to change what I can change and learn to face that some things won’t change.

Does any of this make sense? I have lived over half my life and I made mistakes and I learned from some. This latter part of my life, I have nothing to lose, but to gain laughter, memories and less stress. This is what I dream of and yearn for.

I never thought different about environment except in the form of how it causes illnesses, but I now know that your every day living is also effected by what you see in front of you day in and day out. I have got to make changes. I want to live, mentally.