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.

The monsoon has arrived
with anticipated rain-
too little for our drought
of our arid, thirst-starved plain.
But every drop is welcome
with a fraction of its sum-
more in the days ahead
that certainly will come.
This rain fell hard and fast
cold and wet and measured-
the moisture signifying
something that was treasured.
The air,  now brisk and cool
a sweatshirt may be needed-
even just a long-sleeved shirt
is a piece of clothing heeded.
God gives us want of things
at His own pace and time-
on this high desert ground
of prickly pear and pine.

This day has been too long
I'm ready for night's song
a reverie of pleasant sleep
and dreams to keep
and dreams to keep.

This day has been too long
correct me if I'm wrong
but twilight is a gift
a prelude to a rift
a prelude to a rift.

The dark is creeping fast
what light there is won't last
sandman spreads his seed
the comfort that we need
the comfort that we need.

Outside the stars are glowing
a cool light breeze is blowing
and my bed is like a nest
to curl  into...to rest
to curl  into...to rest.

This day has been too long
the heat has been too strong
and the coolness of the night
gives me solace till the light
gives me solace till the light.

What will you do with love
when once it comes your way?
will you put it all aside
for another rainy day?

Will you visit other pastures
that look greener and more fair?
is there something you don't like
perhaps the color of her hair?

What will you do with happiness
that knocks upon your door?
will you wait until it stops
until it's there no more?

Happiness is fleeting
grab it while you can
tomorrow waits the sorrow
to ruin one's own plan.

What will you do with love
when it "falls" out of the blue?
will you turn aside and wonder
if it's really love you knew?

The spirit of man is war
the spirit of God is peace
man's wars continue
in God's world, they cease...

The spirit of man is pride
the spirit of God is humble
pride is the curse of man
in God's world, it crumbles...

The spirit of man is hateful
God's spirit is that of Love
man's world is the earth
God's world is above...

The spirit of man is lies
the spirit of God is truth
man's ways are evil
God's way are couth...

The spirit of man knows failure
the spirit of God, does not
man's education is nothing
unless, by God he's been taught.

The night we danced in moonlight
was the start of something new
was the budding of romance
and was the love that first we knew.

The moon's glow, settled on your cheek
I held you tight, as we swirled around
through the clouds the moon did peek
and that night, our love was found.

Stars were companions to the moon
like the stars, dancing in your eyes
then the music ended all too soon
people started saying their goodbyes.

We continued dancing with no melody
imaginary strings that touched our heart
we were seeing things nobody else could see
and for those moments, didn't want to part.

The night we danced in moonlight
was the beginning of our dream
the merging of two souls as one
like two rivers flowing in one stream.

Take me in your loving arms
do with me what you will
calm this restless soul
and let this heart be still -

Then kiss me tenderly
and set these lips afire
so I may realize my dream
that's fueled by my desire -

Hold me close, hold me tight
whisper words I want to hear
the night is cold without you
but warm when you are near -

Your eyes are stars that shine
they stun me with their glow
hiding treasured secrets
that I'd like to know -

Take me in your loving arms
it is there,  that I am safe
put your cheek right next to mine
so that I can kiss your face.

'Twas but a little love
that never went away
it blossomed like a rose
like the touch of spring in May

For the heart was made alive
as the days became more sunny
and the soul was stirred by love
and its taste was kin to honey

Something soft and sweet
something warm and tender
filled my mind with wonder
and the magic that it rendered

'Twas but a little love
that had its winsome way
that led me by its hand
and wouldn't go away.

God is not the author of confusion
but can we say the same of man?
he shoves aside the word of God
is that something we can understand?

Man has tried his best to make peace
but his efforts destroy his very plan
it's time to put God back in our life
lest we fall,  as we attempt to stand.

Wars do not solve the anger issues
conflict brings sorrow and more pain
we're left with nothing much accomplished
with little solace  - and very little gain.

We've removed God's blessing by rejection
with abortion, with the wickedness of life
the violence that spreads and conquers
is as deadly and as sharp as any knife.

We are no longer,  what we call united
division covers us, just like a plague
nothing more in life is certain
only something that we call vague.

It's time to shed some things
that bind us and encumber
things that lost their value
like old and useless lumber.
It's time to discard clothing
to the thrift stores they will go
once they had their moments
but moments pass, you know.
I'll give away,  my old L.P.'s
that now,  I seldom play
long ago they had their time
but that time has slipped away.
And don't forget,  all the books
I won't read them anymore
they now are useless items
of violence, crime and gore.
It's time to bury yesterday
the sixties are long gone
just one season now remains
to sing my old life's song.

Who is the man who looks back at me?
the image that I see?
I look a little closer, ***, that's me!
My hair is receding quickly,
there's a bald spot up on top;
at my age, I can't grow a new crop.
The eyes take a while to get brighter -
the small goatee is gray or it's white;
there's a haggard look at dawn,
depending upon the light.
I rise from my bed with slowness,
sit on the side for a bit;
behind the window's curtain,
the morning's becoming lit.
I walk with a cane and a flashlight,
in the bathroom I hit the switch;
the light is suddenly brighter,
my God- old life's a *****.
It takes me some time to get going,
two cups of coffee drunk slow;
I stretch out my legs at the sink,
by God now, I'm ready to go.
I grab Jax's leash from the wall,
he's prancing and all ready to go;
I grab my hat and sunglasses,
we exit -  and go with the flow.

The early morning coolness
finds me on the trail, walking
the crispness of the dawn
looking here and there, gawking;
A hike for me is pleasant
and something of a boon,
I smile at the image before me
for I am walking toward the moon.
though I am not getting any closer
its fullness shines as I look south;
the man in the moon is not apparent
but if I look close, I can see his mouth.
The loop I take is on a high ridge
the highway traffic off to my right;
they're all rushing off to work
I turn, and they are gone from sight.
Back to the car, where I have parked
I make my way on dirt-packed narrow trails;
there are no short-cuts that I take
and the sense of one good walk prevails.

2,000, five hundred feet higher,
it's ten degrees cooler up here;
than the place where I now live
watching the green cacti near.

From where I am,  I can't see it,
I'm too far to the north and east;
but the views I do have,  are great,
Verde Valley's a high desert feast.

The peaks behind Flagstaff's are lovely,
Eighty-nine A winds her way to Jerome;
and a shelter of pines line my footpath,
as we amble and stride and do roam.

Jax - is my  faithful companion,
adorable, trustworthy...true;
a canine that I can call buddy,
he's with me in most things that I do.

The road is a thousand feet lower,
like a concrete snake amid trees;
Wood-Chute mountain's enchanting,
as once more, I return, to just see.

The heart is tired and growing heavy,
the body's calling me to sweet sleep;
I say so long for things today,
as the land of Nod in stillness creeps.
I will dream and not remember,
I will wake, let's hope, refreshed;
even in the fog of early morning,
as sleep and wakefulness, are meshed.
Goodnight to friends and fellow poets,
thanks for all the joys you bring;
that tug at our emotions daily,
that cause the weary soul to sing.
Sharing grievance with the world,
sharing every happiness;
without your voices heard and raised,
your poems would all be sorely missed.

Fit on the breastplate of righteousness,
about your chest and waist;
drink from the cup of truth,
how pleasant is its taste!
Keep on singing praises, to the God above,
may his blessing never cease,
prepare to spread His gospel,
upon your feet, wear peace.
Take up the shield of Faith,
that glows, just as the sun;
it repels the fiery darts,
sent from the evil one.
Take the helmet of salvation,
it will keep your mind on Him;
drink from His living waters,
fill your cup up to its brim.
Grab the sword of the Spirit,
hold the Word of God on high;
the full armor of the Lord,
is His great battle cry!

I welcome the night with its quiet
sounds of the rude world, deceased;
the silence is somber, inviting
my comfort level's increased.

The twilight is pulling up covers
I find a pillow, I rest my head;
in a few hours,  or sooner
my pillow will find its own bed.

I'm glued to the tube with a ballgame
my team is down by one run;
whether they win isn't important
it's the play of the game that is fun.

The room is darkened with shadows
one lamp's  sufficient for glow;
I get engrossed in the game
and follow its leisurely flow.

I welcome the night with it's quiet
cast aside, the gist of the day;
and rest in utopian fashion
as snares of the day slip away.

Don't waste your time on dreams
things forgotten half the time;
face reality instead
to dream, it's just a crime.

Dreams are great deceivers
most don't make much sense;
why give into fantasy?
it just makes the brain more dense.

Dreams are great pretenders
fluffy magic in your sleep;
if they're taken seriously
they may cause you to weep.

We don't recommend them
(that's me, myself and I);
they are troublemakers
I don't know just why.

Dreams are just delusions
that laugh and run away;
that hide in darker shadows
they never come your way.

I was once a dreamer
but they just passed me by;
and so I soon forgot them
I don't know just why.

There's a ship of fools,
pulls into every port;
it's called the ship of love
(at my last report).

They disembark with eagerness
and roam the lonely shore;
unfulfilled and empty
they're always wanting more.

Rose-colored glasses they wear
optimistic and well wishing;
they seek the opposite ***
it's akin to fishing.

The lure, the line, the hook
if you get my meaning;
they're putting on the front
with clever, hopeful scheming.

The ship of fools is sailing
from wherever you can think;
on seas of expectant loving
with smiles and charms and winks.

Cotton, floating, on the wind,
like snow, comes tumbling down;
and rests in patches here and there,
white fluff, upon the ground.
The roots on cottonwoods look old,
like gnarled and calloused hands;
they rise in towering strength,
in several, separate stands.
The cormorants build nests,
up in the sky, in giant trees;
oblivious to the white stuff,
and the offspring of its seeds.
They're noisy, full of cackles,
we've invaded their domain;
we walk further from the wood,
with their heckling on the wane.
To the muddy, murky shoreline,
where my dog's paws find the muck;
I call for him to come to me,
but I'm not having any luck.
I pull gently, on his leash,
he moves from off the shore;
tramping back through wetlands,
we find the path, once more.

Have you had your daily bread this morning?
the spiritual bread of truth?
not the fast food that exists
or the foolishness of youth.
Something stronger, something more,
that feeds the inner soul
that satisfies the heart
that you cannot control.
Truth that rights all wrongs
truth that fills and heals
not your quarter-pounder
not your Happy Meals.
Nourishment from God's great "lunch"
fulfillment from the Word
hunger that's swept away
by the truth that's heard.
He is the Bread of Life
the ever living fountain
by which you overcome
every single mountain.

It's the quietness of evening,
slumber creeps, comes to me;
and takes me to the sandman,
that always waits, so patiently.

I fight with little effort,
the weariness, too much;
I bow to eyelids drooping,
sleep has me, in its clutch.

I feel the heart grow heavy,
the brain waves, getting slow;
bed's just around the corner,
calling sweetly, this I know.

Just a goodnight poem for friends,
for fellow poets and their words;
who spread the rhymes we love,
where good poetry does merge.

Goodnight my hellopoetry pals,
let's all drift off to dreamland;
and hope that, in all the dreaming,
it's something we can understand.

Night comes, without much warning,
the shadows fade to darkness in a flash;
and daylight hides for several hours,
like it has done something wild and rash.
Night belongs to nocturnal creatures,
that crawl and creep and hide away;
coyotes, scorpions, snakes and javelinas,
lurk and scrounge until the break of day.
Night is a cover for the very wicked,
that prey and hunt, on the old and weak;
without regard for any consequences,
the hurt and pain they inflict to seek.
Night is the slumber of the good folks,
who sleep in peaceful dreams and snore;
unaware of things that might disturb them,
they think that they're safe behind their door.
Night passes, in the hours we know not,
a time of passage, almost all sleep through;
eight hours of a life we can't account for,
but at dawn, we awake, and feel brand-new.

Out on the porch,
gentle breezes blow;
I bask in early morning sun,
in its warmth and glow.

On my makeshift trellis,
trumpet vines climb high;
the rosemary is fragrant,
against the azure sky.

The honey locust trees,
sway lightly in the wind;
on the far horizon,
that seems to never end.

Dark, green juniper,
makes a lovely edge;
bordered on the gulch,
it makes a perfect hedge.

The willows and a cactus,
share the earth together;
red roses and bottle-bush,
complete my backyard treasure.

The arid land, does not lack
for growth,
the plants all seem
to know their place;
I grow to love their
buds and blooms,,
knowing soon, their
smiling happy face.

On your high horse, you passed me by,
never heard my voice, its quiet sigh;
never took your eyes off straight ahead,
passed me by, just like I was dead.
You're too high and mighty for my taste,
your upper lip, too stiff, your demeanor, cold;
and now, that I have thought about it,
you are too ****** old.
You were a passing fancy for my mind,
to think you might notice me, was silly;
you were after beauty I could not touch,
so you found yourself a lovely little filly.
I was young and foolish in my dreams,
to picture you and I, as two, together;
you only wanted flesh for satisfaction,
another wasted night of groaning pleasure.
On your high horse, you passed me by,
and lost the chance of me to coarsely ply;
and I laugh as I recall, that stupid, vapid day,
you rode by, not looking, on your merry way.

She speaks of love,
what little she's had;
her words echo,
lost, alone, and sad.
Why do not the Gods
comfort her and  sing?
maybe she has no hope;
in what they say and
things they bring.
A prayer is silent,
tossed in  the wind;
and woe continues,
without an end.
One day, her prince,
might come;
and straighten out,
the things undone.
A surprise to her,
and no one else;
dreams come true,
of what she's felt.
Love is patient,
love is kind;
first in the heart,
then in the mind.

My love was like a flower, always blooming,
I paid heed to myself, with much grooming;
to look the very best I could, for only you,
but that dissolved, when you and I fell through.

Now my love is like the dying cracks in sand,
that suffers from lack of rain on barren land;
like wilted plants, that wither on the stalk,
my heart's shunned by mute and empty talk.

Too late for saving rain, the very root has died,
by cold and callous ways you spoke and lied;
some love can still survive, but alas, not mine,
it all has lost its luster and its polished shine.

Yes, I feel like I'm the victim in this horrid tale,
but truth be told, that as both, we surely failed;
for a moment, for a time, it was simply grand,
but it was over when you never took my hand.

My love was like a rhapsody,  of that first kiss,
enveloped in a golden majesty of secret bliss;
but you displayed yourself to be a shallow rover,
and now, for all intents and purposes, it's over.

Mood affects thought,
memories still alive,
of pain some have brought,
with mournful sigh.

Images one can't erase,
linger like a bitter taste,
passing past my face,
such a human waste.

Errors made so long ago,
failure of the soul,
what then, we did not know,
what now, will make us whole.

Ignorance was bliss indeed,
morality was just a choice,
feeling good was just a need,
we never heard the guilty voice.

And now, those days, are gone,
is it too late to save the sinner?
now we know the right and wrong,
are we now, a winner?

Father give me courage,
to face my daily trials;
give me the endurance,
to walk the endless miles.
Let my light shine forth,
to those who cannot see;
let me have the strength,
in the place I want to be.
Hear my fervent prayers,
bless me with your might;
keep me safe and secure,
through the dark of night.
Father   -   grant me love,
the refuge of your peace;
the shelter of your arms,
the joy that will not cease.
Let your presence,   flow,
like an ever-living fountain;
and rid me of the obstacles,
of the ever present mountain.

Climbing hills is my pleasant pastime,
one with nature, one with sky and sea;
meditation on the wings of solitude,
is but little, but quite enough, for me.
Raindrops falling, pose no problem,
it's a reprieve, from all the drought;
I lift up my face to catch the drops,
there's life in rain, I have little doubt.
For today,  it's just a wayward cloud,
but it leaves me feeling nice and fresh;
above me, the darkness moves away,
going to the mountaintop, to mesh.
Far below, the shadows start to gather,
the sun recedes, becomes a molten ball;
in the distance, there's a purple curtain,
as once again, the rain begins to fall.
There is silence, sweet as the sunshine,
that in this special place,  is found;
I turn,  and head back to the world,
resistant and reluctant, to go down.

The first fruit of the spirit is love,
the second is joy, the next one, peace;
these are the building blocks of God,
without them, they will all cease.
The fourth is goodness, then gentleness,
and faithfulness then follows;
these are His attributes,
without them, faith rings hollow.
Kindness and long-suffering,
come afterward, to keep us strong;
and the final one is self-control,
to stop the urge to do some wrong.
All fruits of the Spirit, rightly so,
laws to keep us on the Way;
along with daily contact with the Lord,
as we bow our heads to humbly pray.
To meditate on, to fast and study,
to savor truth of God's great Word;
to listen to the song unknown to others,
the melody no one else has ever heard.

God calls to us,
by His great power, we're led;
to become His children,
not something else instead.

The world cannot receive,
the message that He sends;
the flesh rules thought and body,
and the sins, they never end.

We worship in the Spirit,
to us, the flesh is dead;
Jesus over came the flesh,
as on the stake, He bled.

Carnal mind and carnal thoughts,
are a barrier to His way;
no flesh can see the kingdom,
it that,  it has no say.

God calls to us;
the chosen and the few;
to dwell with Him forever,
a creation made brand new!

My back is bent,  but it's not broken,
hard labor will do that,  my dear friend;
but soon the day will come when work,
will cease to be, by some uncertain end.
We all must go that path that lies ahead,
but what happens to us,  once we've gone?
will we come back with karma waiting?
to play once more, that same old song?
Frankly, I don't care to be a cow or turtle,
or another different person altogether;
it's still a guessing as to what we'll be,
let's all hope that it will be a pleasure.
The Bible says, that there's a resurrection,
God says, He would  like to save us all;
but you must keep His ten commandments,
but you cannot,  if you don't hear His call.
Life's tough,  but there awaits, for us, a choice,
we can follow the Father of all untruth and lies;
or the Son of God who died for all our sins,
and for salvation, because He heard our cries.

On this gorgeous spring-time day,
I sing and praise Your name on high;
feeling gentle breezes blow,
awestruck at the azure sky.
Laugh at those that say it's chance,
this beauty that we know by sight;
grand design,  it's all around,
a hummingbird, an eagle high in flight.
The emergence of new life abounds,
the budding and the blossoming of things;
flowers, leaves and fruit on trees,
remembrance of what -  April brings.
The heart beats fast, the scent of love,
footsteps quicken at the break of day;
thankful for our friends and health,
thankful we still walk Your way.
Give us this moment for a lifetime,
to dwell, in the shelter of Your arms;
as we make choices that will please You,
assured we're safe - from life's great harms.

God is faithful...are we?
are we doing things we do not see?
doing things we think are right,
scoffing at God's will and might.
God shows love...do we?
do we let all others be?
turn away from what is wrong,
we dance and sing the same old song.
God shows love...do we?
or from commitment do we flee?
just deciding to live together,
for a moment's passing pleasure?
God is merciful...are we?
at what cost,  at what fee?
can we offer up - compassion?
or is that something,  we just ration?
God endures...do we?
do we pray on bended knee?
God's the Rock of my salvation,
and of our very troubled nation.

Father, we pray for a world divided,
by untruths, lies and opinion;
we pray for repentance from sin,
over which You have total dominion.
Search our questioning hearts,
and remove all that's unclean;
gives us strength to overcome,
in the faith and hope, unseen.
Father, please,  bless us this day,
with the knowledge of Your  grace;
with the peace that satisfies,
which we,  can then,  embrace.
We give our burdens up to You,
things we can't solve on our own;
we bow, to worship You, my Lord,
above,  on Your Heavenly Throne.
Father, take this solemn prayer,
and turn it to happiness;
let us then,  be a child of God,
whom You acknowledge and bless.

Let the light of God shine through,
in praise or in thanksgiving;
in blessings made brand new,
for another day of living.

Sing the song of His great love,
that keep the fires burning;
grace that's sent from up above,
for what your soul's been yearning.

Peace that knows no boundaries,
joy that knows no end;
faith that knows no quandaries,
stays strong around each bend.

Cast out fear from daily strife,
with the presence of His being;
with each aspect of your life,
and the glory you are seeing.

Let the light of God shine through,
with each word you share;
with knowledge of the things you do,
you can show you care.

Java gets my heart a-pumping,
clears the cobwebs in my head;
the rich, dark drink is fine,
I wake up, like from the dead.

Coffee is the choice of most,
to get the juices flowing;
it's the jump-start of the day,
to move and get you going.

A cup of Joe is pleasant,
two cups or more is great;
the last cup goes down fast,
any longer,  you'd be late.

It's so nice to be retired,
I don't have to "jump the gun;"
I drink it by the window,
and get the morning's sun.

So, here's to coffee drinkers,
to the daily, fresh-made brew;
to the start of one more day
by coffee...made anew.

TV warps my mind,
with its crazy violence;
there's little there to find,
I'd rather have the silence.

I'd rather read a good book,
than to watch the tube;
take a walk and just look,
TV's too **** rude.

Listen to good music,
and better, sing along;
TV's too **** slick,
I'd rather hear a song.

TV's  just disease,
mindless, ugly pleasure;
it's ******, slimy, ******,
nothing there to treasure.

TV warps my mind,
it's addictive and insane;
I've better things to find,
to see and feed my brain.

Heat comes, but for awhile,
the evening makes me smile;
light melts away, as shadow creep,
coolness comes, twilight seeps.
Days grow longer, spring is fading,
summer's close, I think of wading;
better yet, fully immersed, floating,
as some are fishing, others, boating.
I come back and clear my head,
mustn't jump too far ahead;
spring still has two months to go,
though it takes time, it isn't slow.
Twilight gives my heart some peace,
when the din of traffic's ceased;
when the quiet comes around,
when the soul's sweet grace is found.
I was on the porch, just reading,
books oft times are what I'm needing;
when the afternoon's receding,
when the nightly news quits bleeding.

I searched for moment's pleasures,
but then nothing did remain;
I sought out wealth and stature,
but the ending was the same.

I gathered books and music,
never gave much thought to sin;
women, wine and gluttony,
all were "grasping in the wind."

Foolish, man made fantasies,
not an inkling of tomorrow;
with all the silly happiness,
I was left with only sorrow.

With vanity, I lived my life,
then threw everything away;
beguiled by sheer ambition,
my ignorance held sway.

Were these things that mattered?
amid all dreams and wishing?
it was then, You found me Lord,
and the part that I was missing.

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.