The wind is cool and brisk,
the sun, it gives no heat;
it's the end of winter,
and I have anxious feet.
To hike the rolling hills,
to walk the secret trail;
where butterflies hang out,
perhaps, some hurried quail.
To scan the sky for hawks,
or,  if in luck,  an eagle;
something grand as that,
something just as regal.
But I'll take a hummingbird,
or a hopping cottontail;
life's full of variation,
and I'm not one to wail.
All I need is random change,
from the traffic's daily roar;
from the din of constant chatter,
those are the days that I live for.

Once there was a precious love,
freely given,  without measure;
the fulfillment of a hope,
my most glorious treasure.
But nothing lasts forever,
and in time,  I left;
my love was just one-sided,
in my heart, there's now a cleft.
I couldn't thrive on hope,
or a love you cast aside;
a love that wasn't there,
which you in time did hide.
Why beat the drum and holler,
when the music isn't there?
when the one you love,
acts like she don't care.
I had to leave, for my own sake,
all those mournful wasted years;
accompanied by sorrow,
and now, my wasted tears.
I wish you well my darling,
seems so very long ago;
that said you didn't love me,
like a fool,  I did not know.

Dreams that die forever,
are never really lost-
they're filed away as memories,
but there's penalties and costs.

A marriage that has faltered,
a home you've never seen-
a child that never lived,
they all were once a dream.

Pieces of a broken heart,
lie buried in the dust-
fragments of a happiness,
now lost because of trust.

Voices of a distant past,
or echoes from a grave-
remnants of a moment,
lost in hollow caves.

Dreams that die forever,
stay with us, as we sleep-
as we go about our lives,
as inwardly - we weep.

The sun is slowing setting -
in the clouded western skies;
and chilly darkness covers all,
like for the one that slowly dies.

Wane of twilight has moved on -
cool night's formed and spread;
and a somber, quiet hush appears,
but nothing close by me is dead.

A page has turned, like in a book -
of this life's,  never-ending story;
and of the way we live it through,
and of God's auspicious glory.

It's only seasons ever-turning -
with the changes of each day;
tears of happiness that glow,
in the laughter of a child at play

Later on- I'll stand at your grave -
(or you at mine) then, we'll weep;
but not for very long, my sweet,
for you (or me), we are but asleep.

Each love has its own tale,
of passion and emotion;
of changes now forgotten,
a taste of its bad potion.
Some love dies so easy,
while others never do;
but in the final ending,
both of you are through.
What you had is gone,
what you felt has died;
if it slowly fell apart,
at least you know you tried.
Love stays for a moment,
but then it fades away;
no amount of trying,
can get someone to stay.
You get on with your life,
for a while, a broken heart;
but one thing you don't do,
you will never fall apart.
Each love tells a tale,
but the end is still the same;
sometimes friendly parting,
sometimes against the grain.

In a dry and barren desert,
in a stark and lonely land;
I searched for ample shade,
and touched its friendly hand.
In the canopy of cottonwoods,
in the coolness of its leaves;
I hid from pouring rain,
as it wet my sleeves.
In the vastness of a canyon,
I marveled at its sight;
and slowly headed back,
at the coming of the night.
In the dark and velvet evening,
I looked up and kissed the stars;
stood staring at the moon -
a world away from cars.
On an island in the sky,
I gazed at brown-scorched earth;
the diversity of nature's child,
the variety of its birth.

I am dreaming of tomorrow,
when the world turns well;
when we lose the sickness,
and there's nothing left to sell.
When the hate will vanish,
when solid peace returns;
when we learn the truth,
for which the sad heart yearns.
I am dreaming of a new day,
with promises of hope;
with souls of happiness,
that no more have to cope.
Of things that will bring joy,
of things that will bring love;
when each day shines bright,
from the Love that's up above.
I'm dreaming of tomorrow,
when the reality takes place;
when we've no need of dreams,
for the blessed human race.