i placed
my idea
of him
high upon
that pedestal,
then forgot
that the
real him
was afraid
of heights.

They grew old,
A story was told,
Of laughter,
Of happiness,
And a story of woe,
But still,
They grew old together,
Loved,
And died.

walking up the east coast
I studied history for a time
and in Charleston one evening
I wrote a poem .

played "original" songs in Charlotte
drank and danced with new friends every night
but after the 4th I packed it up and again
heard the call of the road .

making my way straight north
following the highway signs
I stopped just up the river in West Virginia
to rest traveled and weary bones .

laid out beside the Ohio
soaking up the sunshine
with my guitar, ruck sack and a dollar for the hat
totaling everything I own .