You speak and I hear
A voice like music spoke
If morning is beginning
I loved you ere I woke
You speak and I hear
A song in perfect tune
If mid-day is our time together
I'll treasure afternoon
You speak and I hear
A laugh so sweet and true
If evening is eternal
I'll spend the night with you
Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 6:27 PM UTC
if someone is absolutely convinced
that the sky is plaid
and you try to tell them
that it is in fact blue
and you point up at the blue sky above
and you ask them to just look at it
try not to be too surprised
at what they see.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
A long time drawn line
Now who will go first
With a stiffened spine
We who are well versed
How do we now cross
That line in the sand
Can we suffer loss
Within our proud land
We all know we're right
We just can't be wrong
It's better to fight
Than sing the same song
If we're to survive
Then we'd better learn
That music will thrive
When each takes a turn
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 8:15 PM UTC
What does the aching world now hear
With each new turning of its sphere
Now passed unto another year
We creatures of primordial fear
The gun and fist and pen and spear
Words that burn and hate and sear
Will only come the last shed tear
When throes of rage at last does clear
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
There once was a broadcast debate
That for Trump was too little too late
Because of the COVID
He'll soon be out voted
For women will determine his fate
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 1:40 PM UTC
In this old world as I grow older
When my old watch forgets the time
There's much less for me to shoulder
And so much smaller hills to climb
I look to once my future past
I forget if I remember
But if my footprint is to last
I must walk before December
Jul 23, 2020
Jul 23, 2020 at 4:21 PM UTC
"See that up there?"
"Up where, Daddy?"
"Right there," he said, pointing at the moon that had
risen high above the silhouetted trees.
"That's the moon," said the little girl.
The chilly, early autumn night was such a warm welcome
from an endless summer of tropical, stiflingly humid New
England heat.
"That moon," he said, as he put his arm around her,
and drew her close to him, "belongs to everybody
in the world. Everyone, as soon as they're born,
gets a piece of that moon."
"It's very pretty," she said.
"Well, here's the thing, my darling sweet Daughter. I'm
giving you my piece."
"What?...Why?"
He smiled, and told her, "If I give you my piece,
the moon will be yours."
"How can that be?"
"Because you'll own two pieces of the moon, and
that's more than anyone else has."
"But what if someone else gives their piece away?"
He laughed, kissed her on the cheek, and
said, "That's impossible. Everyone loves their
piece of the moon so much that they would never
give it away...unless they love someone as much
as I love you...and so...that's impossible."
The moon shone brightly in the autumn sky, as
brightly as it ever, and always will.
"It belongs to you."
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 8:26 PM UTC
tell me why there's Mother's Day
what sets the day apart
why should i give a flower bouquet
when i could give my heart
each rising sun and amber moon
through streams both wide and narrow
comes singing brave, a happy tune
a strong and gentle hero
so tell me why there's Mother's Day
one day's just like another
it's always been just child's play
to have you for my Mother
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
With sleep once more before me
My mind sought to implore me
In my wall the smallest crack
Why care were I to notice
An etched line of thinnest black
A flaw of the remotest
It hadn't been there yesterday
At least I think so anyway
I'm off at last to face my dreams
Of riddles, lies and brittle schemes
When morning pulls me from my bed
I'll put aside the evening's dread
That fissure in my bedroom wall
I may have conjured after all
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 6:24 AM UTC
Two old friends sit on a fence
With their cap in hand
Grateful for the odd few pence
Past dignity be ******
The future is their wistful past
Each month a day gone by
And when their time is up at last
They'll heave a grateful sigh
The tune is not yet over
Though weary do they stand
They'll rest in fields of clover
And lie in grains of sand
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 10:29 PM UTC