Once we were a Christian nation,
close to God and full of love;
now we've cast Him out,
like a worn discarded glove.

Thought we could do without Him,
said doing good, was good enough;
thought our own way was the right way,
we've found out the road is rough.

We've all turned away from God,
we now worship different things;
like money over Jesus -
are we shocked by what it brings?

We're all headed for disaster,
it's too late to hit the brakes;
it's too late to turn around,
for God and heaven's sake.

Once we dwelt with God,
said prayers and offered praise;
but from grace, we fell,
in our final coming days.

I called to say hello,
a thousand miles away;
I said my brief hello,
and your answer made my day.

It took away the rain,
it took away my fear;
when I heard your voice,
so very close,  so near.

I called to say hello,
on my weary way back home;
tired of the miles I'd come,
bored of the restless roam.

You voice was sweet and pleasant,
like a balm to jangled nerves;
such is the voice of love,
and the emotion that it serves.

I called to say hello,
from across the neighborhood;
much closer than we've been,
from the distance that we've stood.

In the fast lane,
life goes by too quickly;
the landscape blurs.
I gaze till I feel sickly.

I used to get that way,
on the circular merry-go-round;
I'd get off and fall to earth,
back then, it was, soft ground.

Now the earth's grown hard,
I bend, but seldom give;
the body is more rigid,
each year that I do live.

I walk with caution,  on
ground that's cold and icy,
my footsteps planted firmly,
they know each step is dicey.

I take no unknown risks,
I like my life too much;
to throw caution to the wind,
wouldn't help me much.

It used to be,
New England had
fall magic...
of autumn colors
that were unsurpassed;
In Vermont,
solitude and serenity;
Alas - those magic days
have passed.
Two-lane roads,
are filled with
speeding cars;
at least, at night,
you still can see...
the stars.
It used to be,
the pace of life
was slow;
today - it's hectic;
the only quiet now,
is winter's snow.
It used to be,
there was peace,
within the village,
where I would go;
but that was in
the magic of
one's early youth...
decades... and ages,
not so long ago.

In this last day of September,
there are things to remember;
fading of the summer's heat,
scents of autumn, oh so sweet.

Shadows grow a little quicker,
as the sun begins to flicker;
the dawn is slow in rising,
each morn a bit surprising.

The air grows crisp and cool,
and still I am but nature's fool;
happy in the changing of a season,
not for any certain rhyme or reason.

Autumn comes with dying themes,
in its multicolored schemes;
in the falling of the leaves,
form proud majestic maple trees.

September slips in grand repose,
with each death of one red rose;
giving way to autumn's song,
as the change of life moves on.

No love is ever lost,
though thrown about
and often tossed;
it will stay forever
in the heart;
no love is ever gone,
when once again,
there is no song,
to brighten lovers,
now apart.
Memory is fraught
with dreams and nightmares,
with hope and despair,
wondering if one cares;
love is seldom steady or
predictable;
it can cause delusions,
often despicable,
temporary insanity,
inflated vanity,
leading to profanity.
Cursing love is not
the way to end it,
forgiveness  paves the
mode to send it;
absence of the voice,
will often end it.
But, no love is ever over,
the mind cannot forget her
tender shoulder,
the one you used to lean upon;
never is forgotten,
once it's gone.

The only place to kneel,
is before the coming King;
co-creator of the world,
that makes the heart to sing.

Don't kneel before the flag,
stand up straight and proud;
and when your hear the anthem,
sing out the song...aloud.

That flag is full of freedom.
to those that gave their soul;
for those that can't come back,
to keep our nation whole.

You disrespect the glory,
of the ones that kept us free;
when you refuse to stand,
and rest on one poor knee.

Don't kneel before the flag,
it's a sign you do not care;
it's a sign of your indifference,
to those that truly care.