The boulders are too huge for me
to see too far,
they often block the sun;
but in their beauty there's no mar,
and that's what makes it fun.

I walk the peaks and valleys,
high and lows, they shine;
like walking dirt-filled alleys,
I do not see the grime.

All is what it seeks to be,
nature is unraveled;
as far as any eye can see,
these paths are seldom traveled.

Jumbled rocks of granite, old,
invite my feet to walk;
in a sanctuary of peace that's bold,
where there's no need of talk.

Solitariness is fine,
amid the boulders, grand;
in corners where the sun don't shine,
and no one holds your hand.

Days and nights, they runtogether,
sometimes fast and sometimes slow;
some are toil and some are pleasure,
sometimes I just never know.

Twelve hours sunshine, 12 hours dark,
when your retired. what does it matter?
the sun above, is very bright and stark,
it can fry you, make you mad as a hatter.

Night is black with shimmy-shine stars,
there's a distant planet there tonight;
don't know which one, perhaps it's Mars,
whichever one,  it's quite the sight.

Dawn comes up with pink-tinged feet,
in rosy-petaled splendor;
light and dark, they sometimes meet,
but as often not, that I can remember.

Days and nights, they runtogether,
sometimes fast and sometimes slow;
sometimes they are hard to measure,
sometimes I just never know.

Hot days, dreary days,
now begins the summer;
long days. hazy days,
often times a ******.
Seeking shade, seeking water,
relishing the morning breeze;
cool showers, ice cream treats,
things that satisfy and please.
Beaches in a desert land,
dry and bare and sandy;
frosty mugs of cold root beer,
often come in handy.
Mirages come and disappear,
they shimmer with false hope;
to escape the heat, the game,
at the movies, we can cope.
Hot days, dreary days,
and now we pray for rain;
I'm not looking toward next year,
when we'll do it all again.

I remember fields of youth
where we so grandly played -
we were strong, fleet of foot
how we wish they'd stayed.

The eternal spring of loving
ah, those endless days of bliss -
when tender words were spoken
and expectations of a kiss!

The days we worked with vigor
the nights of splendid passion -
we're they then so long ago?
or have we fallen out of fashion?

Middle age has flown away
all that's left is dying slowly -
all our sins,  we hope forgiven
in the hopes of being holy.

What's left,  is heaven's arms
praying we're accepted -
quashing thoughts of hell
if sadly,  we're rejected.

Now let us speak of love
for love is what you are
let us also speak of joy
for you are its shining star.
You keep me safe,  awake
you keep me safe,  asleep
warm me with your laughter
it's seldom now - I weep.
You bring the sunshine in
you keep dark clouds away
I never have to worry
that by my side you'll stay.
You bring to me the rainbows
and place them at my feet
you're cause for celebrating
when first our hearts did meet.
Yes,  I must speak of love
for love is what you are
when you send it all my way
then you're never far.

When I have finished climbing up the ridge
to some secluded green and leafy knoll
where the view is often grand and splendid
then I can say, it's well, within my soul.
When I have reached the summit of success
and realized the elusive, treasured goal
then I'll bask in joy and satisfaction
for it's well, so very well, within my soul.
When I ask myself, the silent question,
for whom and what the bell does softly toll
I think of the captain of my salvation
and it's well, so very well, within my soul.
When I know, that without Him, I am lost
when I know, it's Him, that makes me whole
then there's peace, that passes understanding
and it is well, so well, within my soul.
When I see waves that kiss the distant shore
the white-tipped water on its constant roll
then I have a view of heaven's glory
then all is well, so well, within my soul.