This old house, made just of wood,
For years so proudly how it has stood,
Perched high upon the hill nearby,
The memories sweet, and some we cried.

The roof was sturdy through many days,
When storms came crashing in the ways,
With rain that beat at times like a foe,
Deep inside was where the love  still flowed.

We painted it when time came round,
From very top to the bottom ground,
Polished the windows till shinny bright,
Our old house standing, a lovely sight.

Hung a porch swing for all to share,
Forgot our troubles, the devil may care,
Hugged one another on colder nights,
Inside the swing there were no fights.

The rickety furniture inside was there,
But comfort was not on them to bare,
And all the winter with quilts piled high,
We slept like dreamers, not knowing why.

So, as I leave old house to go,
Inside my heart, I still love it so,
And no matter where life now leads me on,
Still at the old house is where I belong.

Love
Love
Love

Hope
Hope
Hope

Time
Time
Time

Is
now
now
gone

So, now,  my father you stand alone,
Inside your world, your silent zone,
With weary eyes you consume the room,
Your body has mastered the eventual gloom.

Through mindless years you toiled the Earth,
Each day with repetition, your pain gave birth,
You looked to the seasons to show you how,
What will you do, since impending death is now?

Neglected dreams lay wasting away,
The times you wished the words to say,
With lack of love you hurt those who cared,
The misadventures no longer there.

The loves of life who passed slippery on by,
With nights of regret, your soul still cried,
When on the brink of madness, you thought to say,
There's retribution with much hope left to pay.

So, stoically you now sit in the revolving chair,
Such weather-worn eyes, you remain and stare,
While waiting like a lifeless, worn, lost, angry man,
You endure the moment, the one last stand.

Sweet the lilacs fill the room,
Soft the evening glowing moon,
Energetically, the crickets call,
Hear the footsteps down the hall.

Bulbs burning, shadowy light,
Doors creaking in busy night,
Muffled conversations from nextdoor,
Mysteries stirring with silence no more.

Distant radio with old songs gone by,
Some are laughing, some to cry,
Into the evening we feel the glow,
Of living life we all still know.

Outside my window the breeze comes in,
Inside my head, the world still spins,
My heart is beating to this rustling about,
I hear some people outside they shout.

Dogs in distant lengths still bark,
Some on the city for a moments lark,
There are those tucked softly in bed,
With no sugar plum fairies inside their head.

And so, I chuckle inside my being,
Of all the night and what's been seeing,
I turn to go to bed to finally rest,
This living life is still the best.

The bright city lights, burning a hole in my eyes,
Loud noises, day and night, high overhead,
The pollution and the environment slowly dying,
I think I open a bottle of wine, listen to the Dead.

The endless people, shouting obsentities in traffic,
Longest lines in grocery and department store lines,
Hunting to find some green grass, I think I'm sick,
This city living is no longer alluring, so undevine.

Think I'll pack up the car, call some friends,
Pack a cooler with food and ice-cold drinks,
Take the undiscovered road, where it might end,
Cause I want to breathe clean air that doesn't stink.

Will head up to the mountains, where I can think,
Deep inside the pine trees and foilage everywhere,
Leave all my worries, for a moment, soul will link,
With the purity where it's life daily with no cares.

Will hug my wife to my heart on cold nights,
Start a fire raging in the fireplace, to keep warm,
Listen to the crickets and the birds, no fright,
As the center of nature surrounds and swarms.

Goodbye concrete jungle, so long rat race,
Sell our city home, build a log cabin in the middle,
Of the forest, where there's a much slower pace,
And nothing's taken for granted, nothing is little.

See her coming down the street,
Her clothes so perfect, her hair so neat,
The makeup on her face is placed so fine,
I think Mrs. Philips is so devine.

I watch her whisk along the way,
Her smile is bright, there's nothing to say,
She opens an umbrella, it begins to rain,
My obsession with her is so insane.

She enters yet another retail store,
The clerk who meets her is such  a bore,
But she, like an angel, brightens up the day,
I love Mrs. Philips, what can I say?

I can't imagine a word she shares,
Isn't full of magic, the devil may care,
Her shoes so shiny, her demeanor kind,
I need Mrs. Philips, or loose my mind.

It is so sad that I'm only eighteen,
While she is wordly, the cosmopolitan scene,
But somewhere in my wildest dream,
Her love will make me feel serene.

So, now she exits the store, you see,
But doesn't look around, or see me,
Yet, I am there across the street,
Mrs. Philips, I hope some day to meet.

But there must be more time for me to grow,
My mind is young, with much to know,
And age is important, between people true,
I hope she'll wait and remain true blue.

If I could catch your tears in a cup,
I'd sprinkler them on flowers to grow,
Would hold them dear unto my heart,
So I could show you how not to cry.

If all of your pain could be placed in a box,
I'd close the lid and never let them show,
In order to contain the hurt and heartache,
So you could have more happier days to come.

If you could learn to share your heart,
I'd love you like we love the air we breathe,
So we could become close and share our lives,
Grow old together in good and bad times.

If all our hopes and dreams were painted on canvas,
We'd show the world how love is brighter than sorrow,
I'd hang the painting on the global wall of the world,
For all to admire and understand the purpose of life.

If I could explain how all the  good and bad are intertwined,
As all part of the ingredients that make all of our lives,
I'd stand and count the days of joy in how they had outnumbered,
All the lost and lonely times that sometimes seem to be endless.