reaching a place never thought you would ( without being out of your substance hungry soul)
and it fits real good
Contentment is the Holy Grail
and you are drinking deep.

we met on our way to our maker
parted at the gates of death
time will tell if we meet again

' why must I be a teenager in love' no longer applies
but when it did it hurt like hell

Feeling so sick and tired of
Feeling sick and tired of
Being so sick and tired.

we were advised to cower under our kitchen tables in the 80s
if we heard the nuke warning claxon ( which by the way they tested every other week)
But in reality we might just as well sat at the table and shared a last meal,
you know, we had to get real at quite a young age. This whole nuke thing gave us an outlook that penetrated all the ******* we were fed. Something of an unforeseen consequence of the cold war. I faced the Russians in northern Germany, what we hoped to stop was an army the size of which we would have had no chance. Russia, that great nation seemed to have come to its senses, but now I am not so sure.

silence is a telling voice
gentle hearts do hear 
 
with hush of bated breath,
as season’s end,
inner tides grow low

longing eyes whisper
in wordless tears
the passing of love
grown cold                                    

raindrops taste
like wistful tears,
without the ache

when your sky comes falling down ...**
                                                           ­                                        

 *wild is the wind

Looking for a silver lining
               every time
                          it turns out wrong

Weighing reasons to believe
               looking for an
                          un-lost heart to behold

Seeking a golden skeleton key
               that unlocks
                          the secret garden’s
                                 velvet gate

Feeling the deep ache
                of cold and lonely
                           on a golden autumn morn

Walk along the garden pathway
               follow me down
                           the wooded pensive trail

See the reflection in the wishing well
                looking wistfully back
                            unbidden eyes' do tell

Feeling never enough
               like a pearl-less oyster’s
                           empty shell

Tripped and fell another dawning
               trying to come in
                           out of the storm

The only silver lining
               betides the moment,
                            
                            ­sipping words

                            of hopeful waters

               from your well ...


*wild is the wind