Old lovely days
I wish to have you
In my arms again
For you brightened my days

Old lovely days
Your memories are sweet
But sweeter in sight
For you are romantic at heart

Old lovely days
Come back to me
For I still do
And will always

Old lovely days
You left so soon
Without a bye
Nor assurance of return

Old lovely days
Nothing can make me happy
Than having you back in sight
For am dedicated to be yours

Old lovely days
My heart is breaking
You alone can heal my wound
For your absence caused the wound

Old lovely days
You would be the last
To leave my memory
Am I still in yours?

Old lovely days
You promised never to break my heart
Your absence is destroying it
Where have you been?
Old lovely days.

There many more gifted Writers then myself here on the earth.
So I know the truth, that  I am a ok writer whom allow Christ.
To write poetry that is Great through me, not entirely me whom writes.
For he wants to use us all through our writing to bless others here.
For he will always add to a offering in his name to bless our gifts.
To reveal himself to everyone else through each of our gifts here.
When we give the gift to him and deciated it to him here as well.
For there are by more ways to give to God then just our money.
For its far better to look beyond our-self to want others healed.

Drains  overflowing.
Manholes  spouting.
Water  bubbling.
Rising  and  leaping.
Through  front  doors.
Swelling  and  sweeping..
Th en  turning  and  twisting.
All  through  the  house.
Furniture  ruined.
Carpets  all  sloppy..
Then  it  goes  gushing.
Out  the  back  door.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

What's a simple man like me
Doing in this part of town
Especially at a time like this
When the sun is going down

I crank my Barry Manilow
Up on my cassette deck radio
Letting all the boys round here know
That I'm down with the sound and flow

That's when this old rusty Ford
Creaks up to the light
His girlfriend turns and gives a wink
And a great big green teeth smile

I get the notion then and there
That he's the jealous type
As he spits a wade of tobacco juice
All over my Pintos driver side

Steps down from his conglomerate
Lumbers over to me
The kids in school are sure to hear of this
As I'll soon be history

Roughly pulls me out the window
Shaking me off like a bad habit
Saw my life flash before my eyes
Luckily I had enough sense to reach out and grab it

Just then he catches the music
That's now playing loud and clear
Turns with a look plastered to his face
Asking who is that he hears

I tell him Barry Manilow
He's the one who writes the songs
Just then he starts a-humming
If he knew the words he'd sing along

His girlfriend calls up all their friends
Who quickly show up to the scene
Looks like we got us a Copacabana
With the lights flashing from red to yellow to green

It all came to a ******
As Barry, Mandy sang
There wasn't a dry eye on the street that night
As I quickly saddled my Pinto and drove away

I let out a huge sigh of relief
As I sped through all the lights
With "Looks Like We Made It" blasting through the stereo
Thanking Barry Manilow, once again for saving my life