They'll shoot me in the morning,
for leaving my **** post;
by the time you get this letter,
I'll probably be a ghost.
Didn't want this ******* war,
stabbed the dummy and yelled "****!";
not my idea of passing time,
not my usual kind of thrill.
I'm a pacifist at heart,
learned my lessons the hard way;
now my Uncle Sam,
requires me to stay.
But I said, no, not going to,
I hopped he Greyhound Bus;
said good riddance to it all,
now, what's the ******* fuss?
A simple parting of the ways,
is all that I desire;
I got burned by Army brats,
got too close to the **** fire.
They'll shoot me in the morning,
with a blindfold... or without;
this poem's my legacy,
the last and final shout!

You vanished from my life
just like a dream-
I wasn't what you thought
not what I seemed;
but then, love is often blind
and deaf and dumb-
we went our separate ways
not even chums;
committed to a wall,  unseen.

A barrier that none can see-
an obstacle that bars our way-
built for only you and me -
when one has nothing more to say.

I only wish you happiness and cheer -
good luck in your endeavor dear -
now, you've got one less to fear -
when long ago, we grew so very near.

The Lord's my Hope and my Salvation,
with Him, I do not need another thing;
He is the head of each and every nation,
in Him alone,  does my voice sing.

In the green grass of home, I often lie,
and in the face of death I do not fear;
at ease, by the waters that flow by,
He's in my heart and He is always near.

He keeps me from my wicked enemies,
at His table, a feast He does prepare;
though they are close, they cannot see,
they have no God, and can only stare.

He anoints me with His precious love,
and my glass is filled up to the brim;
my thoughts are floating there, above,
and I have contentment just in Him.

Knowing faith will be my chosen path,
and that His mercy in me will not fail;
that alone will keep me from His wrath,
through all the mountains and the vales.

I approached it with trepidation
asking, does this thing even float?
shut up and hop in he laughed
and please, don't rock the boat.

I  am, a middle-of-the-roader
careful not to get anybody's goat;
not to hurt anybody's feelings
to behave and never rock the boat.

It was a chilly, windy, rainy day
I'd brought a sweater and a coat;
I side-stepped gingerly aboard
making sure, I didn't rock the boat.

I was aware of his funny, wary look
I made sure to smile and not to gloat;
I seated myself with slow anticipation
serious and stern, not to rock the boat.

Relax,  I think we're safe in this old tub
if it sinks, then by god that's all she wrote;
one more time, I remind you, my friend
be alert and aware, and don't rock the boat.

I awaken, to a sound of silence,
savoring the coffee that I drink;
immune to varied things around me,
I read the word of God...and think.
What's life, without a Savior's presence?
with just a world of men to contemplate?
would I feel secure about my future?
or would I stop and shudder at my fate?
This country now, appears divided,
and a "house" divided cannot stand;
is this what God above intended?
or simply man's, great foolish plan.
Do we really think we are the masters,
of events that happen each and every day?
or is there something higher than ourselves,
that unknown to us, comes into play?
I stand in awe of my Savior and Creator,
who is always,  merciful and just;
who'll give us life beyond the grave,
soon after we have turned to dust.

There's a hole in my heart,
(when you left me)
alone, afraid and unsure;
but the message of hate you sent
was more than I could endure;
so, I swept away that mess -
swept it right out of my door.

There's a pain in my soul,
(that still festers)
it follows me to bed,
it wakes me in the morning,
I can't get it out of my head;
I shudder at my thoughts,
wishing that you were dead.

Maybe then, I'd get some rest,
(maybe then, some peace)
put with you still alive,
my hurt will never cease;
if you were gone forever,
my life would have a new lease.

Somewhere, there's a shelter,
(in a place I never knew)
where the pain would fade away,
where my sorrow would not stew;
away from this turbulent storm,
and far away from you.

Peace fills my heart,
when I think of You;
content with life and love,
Your presence make it so,
and always see me through.

Peace reigns in my mind,
when I sing Your praise;
safe in Your loving arms,
with Your armor on,
as I live out my days.

Peace dwells in my soul,
my thoughts are free from sin;
I block the barbs of harm,
turn aside the lust of eyes,
don't look back at where I've been.

Peace is my great spirit,
from the anchor of this flesh;
avoiding paths of pitfalls,
resisting great temptation,
of things that cannot mesh.

Peace that passes understanding,
it's the only peace worthwhile;
to follow His commandments,
and it's to Him alone I answer,
through all trouble and all trial.

Basal cell carcinoma,
is dotted on my face;
my dermatologist's goal?
erase each single trace.
Patchwork, here and there,
his sutures mar my skin;
Frankenstein reminders,
of where his work has been.
A little, next to my nose,
and a little by my eyes;
remnants of his diligence,
from where my skin has fried.
It's the least invasive type,
thank God for little things;
my state is full of sunshine,
and what such sunshine brings.
So I slap on the old sunscreen,
that gooey, paste protection;
in hope that it suffices,
from Old Sol's intervention.

All Your ways are truth Lord
in righteousness You dwell
You heal the unforgiven Lord
and make the sick ones well;
You make the mountains high Lord
and the valleys sweet and low
You make my heart at peace Lord
and make all waters flow;
You bless the faithful people
Your power keeps them safe
the winds of trouble still do blow
but they no longer chafe;
You are the way to heaven Lord
and the the glory is all Yours
You make Yourself available
to those inside Your doors;
The Prince of Peace is Your crown
all else is mass disorder
I thank You Father for Your call
within salvation's border.

Lost in the sweet rock and roll,
I hear the wailers shout;
Jerry Lee and Elvis, Little Richard,
what the music was about.

Living life up to the hilt,
the pounding of the piano;
like a fighter in the ring,
like Rocky Marciano.

Their opponent was the square,
today theyre called a nerd;
but it was rhythm and it was blues,
that through the void we heard.

Chuck Berry's song were gutty,
the lyrics interwoven;
he told Tchaikovsky the news,
and rolled on over Beethoven!

And Fats just walked us home,
past old Blueberry Hill;
said it was a shame,
I can them singing, still.

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.

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.

Hello poetry, what's your rhyme today?
can you take me far from here,
to a distant land unknown,
where I've nothing more to fear?

To some secluded shore,
to a pleasant, quiet beach?
or have something more profound,
and mysterious, to teach?

Carry me to dreamland,
leave me in it's clutch;
where I can find but solitude,
and won't have to think too much.

To a golden sunset on the hill,
to a sunrise that is grand;
to spaces of the west,
to a peak in Switzerland.

I feel the heartbreak of your loss,
I feel the joy you send;
I marvel at the words that touch,
and the way my mind does bend.

Winds are sweeping through the pines
as I drive to Aspen Creek
exit the car, taking my dog
edging to the trail I seek;
It's a cool and quiet place
not too far from town
but different here with trees
and nature's to be found;
The sky is blue and brilliant
the path before us calls
we stride with quickened steps
as we merge into its halls;
As majestic as a temple
with a babbling stream nearby
air that's sweet as perfume
pleasant breezes sigh;
We spend an hour walking
on the ridge the town's in view
we pay it scant attention
after all, we're passing through.

50 million choices silenced,
by the scalpel and the knife;
inside, growth has stopped,
outside, there is no life.
Boys and girls, together,
now perish, in the womb;
once it was a  sanctuary,
now,   it's just a tomb.
They will know no laughter,
they will know no tears;
no loving, smiling faces,
no memories of years.
Mother did not want them,
so they were discarded;
thrown away. like garbage,
before the birth had started.
50 million voices,  silenced,
a life flushed down the drain;
the reasons,  brushed away,
in a nation -  we call sane.

It's a maddening thing,
the breezes of the early Spring;
the pollen thick, you cannot see,
you're knocked out by your allergy.

The constant drip from your nose,
the weeping eyes, the tearful flow;
the coughing, and the sneezing,
inside your chest, you're wheezing.

Your mouth is dry from breathing,
cause your nose is plugged and seething;
your sinuses are clogged,
you feel like you've been flogged.

Comes the night, and you can't sleep,
the blankets round you, one huge heap;
then low-grade fever and the chills,
you've taken too many ******* pills.

Now your up, in the old recliner,
hoping things will get much finer;
alas; now you don't know what to do,
maybe it's the ******* flu.

Safe in my Father's arms-
I'm sheltered from the rain;
sheltered from the sorrow,
that often masks as pain.
His hands reach out to hold me-
there's a strength within His touch;
and though the hurt still lingers,
it doesn't hurt as much.
I'm secure in His great truth-
the blessings He has given;
knowing He still loves me,
make me go on living.
When my anger has subsided-
when the guilt is finally gone;
when my life's been turned around,
then my new life, will go on.
Safe, in my Father's arms-
I'm sheltered from the winds;
embracing fresh beginnings,
with a love that never ends.

Take a cup of Dickinson,
add a bit of Poe;
a pinch of Rod McKuen,
not too much you know...
A teaspoon full of Kipling,
a tablespoon of Frost;
stir it in the ***,
so not much is lost.
A dash of Robert Service,
a dash of my friend, Shelly;
a little Tennyson,
is good for one man's belly.
For sadness, add Millay,
for humor, Ogden Nash;
for adventure, Masefield,
for D. Parker, something brash.
A recipe for poet's stew,
just simmer for an hour;
and relish the aroma,
of poetry and power.

Everything disintegrates,
what once lived, now dies;
death of things most beautiful,
ends in silent sighs.

Fading into nothingness,
where consciousness is dead;
the union of a hundred years,
is broken like a thread.

Buildings fall apart,
walls come tumbling down;
in the forest, tress expire,
with only nature's sound.

Highways need repair to live,
or they'll develop mars;
out in space the planets whirl,
amongst the dying stars.

Everything disintegrates,
too soon, our love, will die;
but never from neglect my love,
or the fact we did not try.

poetry is fine for thoughtful people,
thinkers, readers and the like;
such emotions are the trigger,
for thunder and the lightning strike.

lost love, depression and elation,
the many moods are spread like ink;
the catharsis we need to go on living,
changing as we rise and sink.

we put in words our discontent,
or the regal high of happiness;
we stumble over bits of phrases,
and sometimes make a mess.

But we're  survivors of the last word,
and we write on with wicked verse;
and if it isn't to our liking,
then we'll howl and probably curse.

Yet in the end we come out stronger,
content with just to have a voice;
all we've to blame is our ourselves,
for we're the ones that made the choice.

I grow tired of love poems
battered hearts that often fall
lost among the songs of pity
love that wasn't there at all.
Love's illusion - cast on air
that settles for a while, then flees
and is carried somewhere else
to other distant lands and trees.
It dies as fast -  as it is born
brief, quick, without much charm
causing sorrows once again
leaving  residues of harm.
Leave it lying on the ground
where scattered leaves gather
where feet will ***** it down
and it no more will matter.
Let the remnants fade away
let the meager moments die
washed away with summer rains
let the love that once was...lie.

In the valley of the sun,
I seek the shrinking shade;
trying to evade the brunt,
of the brutal heat of day.

A palm tree offers little,
their trunks are much too thin;
their fronds are separated,
it lets the sun right in.

Only at an inside mall,
can I find such relief;
too much exposure to old Sol.
can cause a heap of grief.

I don't want no cancer of the skin,
so I slap on the sunscreen thickly;
to remain a healthy human,
I don't like being sickly.

It's too **** hot to go outside,
the heat and sun, of course;
I'm thinking very seriously,
to pack and move...up north.

The sun is bright, the air is warm,
on this, my noontime walk;
the wind blows steadily,
but not enough to balk.
My legs are eager, full with grit,
my face, breaks into smiles;
snow-capped peaks are distant,
perhaps, a hundred miles.
The spring-time grass is golden,
like Kansas wheat in bloom;
I look at far flung valleys,
with ample, elbow room.
Serenity surrounds my soul,
engulfs me, with its calm;
I trek the rugged ridges,
the hiking...like a balm.
At night, the skies light up,
where the coyotes often croon;
I touch the stars with fingertips,
and then... caress the moon.

In this time of trial and tribulation
social outcasts in one stroke
we face each other, nation to nation
wondering if its all a joke;
hardly a joke my puzzled friend
fevers, coughs and short of breath
we may be close to our own end
shaking hands with doctor death;
let's pray to God for our salvation
repenting of our sinful ways
irregardless of our station
we must be wary of the days;
wash those hands, wash them clean
disinfect the counter-tops
**** the viruses unseen
until its presence stops;
until this ****** pestilence dies
until we can be close again
let's silence rumors and silly lies
and look back at where we've been.

Whatever will we do?
after we fall in love;
we will we fit together?
as they say, just like a glove.
Or will our road be strewn,
with grave misunderstandings;
like a plane tossed in the air,
with hope for a safe landing.
After we fall in love,
will our union be forever?
will we be rich or poor?
with every attempted endeavor.
Will it be like sweet and lovely?
or will it melt, like ice?
becoming a game of chance,
with each throw of the dice.
With love, there's got to be reason,
you have to involve the mind;
the heart alone is deceitful,
let's pray it is not your kind.

Autumn is in your eyes -
reflected from the trees;
a shining, dazzling, glory,
glowing from off its leaves.

Autumn is in your kiss -
lingering, soft and long;
I hear heaven's music,
it must be autumn's song.

Autumn is in your touch,
subtle, warm, refreshing;
you snuggle close to me,
I feel our bodies meshing.

Autumn is in your voice,
calm as an evening breeze;
sweet as honeyed-nectar,
sure to the lips to please.

Autumn is in your eyes,
from lovely shimmering leaves;
cascading down from above,
from sunshine, dappled trees.

A church is not a building,
it's a meeting of the people;
that need no graven images,
that do not need a steeple.

God doesn't need a temple,
He's found most everywhere,
except in minds of sceptics,
or those who just don't care.

The hearts of men are stunted,
inside, their souls are dead;
they have no Spirit in them,
just carnal thoughts instead.

They are not called to God,
they are but slaves to sin;
they perish with no knowledge,
blind to where they've been.

A church is not a building,
it's the people of the Word;
that adhere to God's commandments,
and the power of his sword.

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.

In my den, I paced,
measured the width
from each angle;
eight by eight.
One bulb burned
brightly overhead.
The commode was a
cold stainless steel thing
projecting from a wall.
My bed was a metal one
with a thin mattress,
with two sheets and
a blanket.
I was in
disciplinary segregation,
(that's another term for Solitary)
Two weeks for refusing to
obey a direct order from a
captain.
I was in the stockade
going AWOL (in peace-time)
I was ornery and a hard-***.
They jailed my body -
but they never broke my mind.
Twice I was in solitary,
but they never broke my mind.
Yelling **** and bayoneting
a straw dummy was not
my passion.
And so I ran away from it all.
Discovering pacifism at
the age of seventeen.
Crossing the ARMY off
of my things to do list.

I waded cautiously,  out into,  the open sea...

laughing,  as the waters covered me...

over my **** fool head!

I know that love can lose its luster,
by things we do not do;
by words we never say,
or those we speak, are few.

I know that hope can fall apart,
by the obstacles we face;
by roadblocks in our path,
by life's insistent pace.

And I know that dreams can die,
by pressure to keep going;
when we lose our vision,
to conclusions of not knowing.

The hectic race is to survive,
and we must overcome;
in love and hope and dreams,
that are placed aside by some.

We must be monarchs of our fate,
and rulers of our soul;
for the body, mind and spirit,
to keep our being whole.

This will be my final poem to you,
to exit, the door that I walked though;
too long, for nothing, I did stay,
far ago, the words I did not say.

You said I was the love of your life,
and consented to become my wife;
but way too far apart we grew,
and out the window, our love flew.

You stopped loving me, don't know why,
I never felt the change, or heard you cry;
it was like a bolt out of the blue,
I was clueless, but you always knew.

Time doesn't matter when love dies,
sometimes, no long and anguished cries;
just a silence that slithers in one day,
just a silence, that does not go away.

Then suddenly the union splits in two,
from troubled times that did accrue;
it's with regret, I voice we seldom tried,
the day you told me that your love died.

Why does love, seem far away,
when she sits so close to you?
so cold at times, like the moon,
romantic at a distance too.

When her sun begins to shine,
I've forgotten all the rest;
I curl myself into her arms,
my head, upon, her breast.

Love does crazy things to you,
if you try to understand;
what's in her heart and mind,
don't try to change it's plan.

She what she is and so are you,
accept that and be glad;
for you never had, such a love,
of all the ones you've had.

Love is not to analyze,
that only brings it down;
love is to enjoy your world,
no matter where it's found.

First of all, there came the breezes,
swirling gently, blowing soft, around;
then the sudden crack of thunder,
still, a far and distant sound.

Gradually, the air grew cooler,
dropping 20 degrees...or more;
then the raindrops played their melody,
and quickly...it began to pour.

I close my eyes and listen closely,
to the drips of pitter...patter;
the sun has gone from sight,
for now, it doesn't matter.

They're bowling up in heaven,
they're hurling lightning spears;
as the water gathers everywhere,
underneath the angel's tears.

A little moisture for the desert,
in a time of drought-parched need;
I meditate upon its fall,
and of our nature's heed.

Things that do not satisfy,
are things I shun the most -
like zombies & werewolves,
sorcery and ghosts.

Movies laced with violence,
excess profanity in bools -
music that's just noise,
proud and haughty looks.

Things that do not satisfy,
from such, I turn away -
they only seek to scar he soul,
to mar a perfect day.

Give me truth and beauty,
that satisfies the soul -
poetry that nourishes,
to make the body whole.

Things that do  not satisfy,
I gladly set aside -
to be contented in this world,
to never have to hide.

The hills are calling from my mind,
I have to act or else complain;
that my feet are sluggish ones,
that these days are way too plain.

I wash my face and grab my keys,
my sunglasses and my wide brimmed hat;
take along some water from the frig,
lean down to softly kiss the cat.

So I begin to climb the first of many hills,                                                    the morning's bright with rising sun;
I hear the footfalls of a runner,
he jogs on by, on his early run.

The blood's now racing in my aging veins,
propelling me to carry on;
I view the mountains with delight,
it's now my solitary song.

I reach the crest and I am labored,
with a quiet, sweaty tiredness;
but for my efforts, I'm rewarded,
by an inward, soul-filled happiness.

Don't tell me that our love is through -
that you want me from your sight;
starting with this very day,
beginning with this night.

Don't tell me our love's done -
that I won't be in your dreams;
that you won't think about me,
and I'll fall right though life's seams.

Don't tell me our love's over -
and I'll be memory;
something you can choose,
if to remember me.

Don't tell me now love's ended -
that I'll soon forget your face;
how can you throw it all away,
and suddenly erase?

Don't tell me our love's gone -
cast out with your last breath;
why does my soul still cry,
denying its own death?

Once, we ate the bread of adversity
satisfying ourselves, alone;
greedy with the cares of life
heavy hearts, etched in stone.
Once we ate the bread of wickedness,
delighted in our sinful ways;
unconcerned about tomorrow
forgetful of the passing days.
Once we ate the bread of affliction,
fleeing from oppressive foes;
wandering to a promised land
where the milk and honey flows.

Now, we eat the bread of heaven,
blessed and sent from up above;
with prayers of thanks to Him
who first showed us, His love.

Now, we eat the bread of life,
seasoned with the fleeting years;
tempered by the blood of Christ
who buries now our earthly fears.

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.

I won't be there, when you wake,
in my heart, you've drove a stake;
there is no more that I can take,
and so I'm leaving, for My sake.
In your heart, you have grown cold,
it's to another,  you've been "sold";
you are too brazen and too bold,
alas, there's nothing more to hold.
I'm too **** sick, of all your lying,
well past the point, of simply crying;
long way past, the trials of trying,
now, I feel like... it's all dying.
You treated me like worthless trash,
my dreams and goals you've bashed;
you only wanted jewels and cash,
it's no wonder, I feel lashed.
You've broken every cherished vow,
but to your wishes, I'll not bow;
I'm going to up, and leave you now,
and I'll survive, just don't know how.

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.

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.

Have they come to rob the store?
these people that wear those masks
only one of those my fickle friend
we have to save for those that ask.

I used to broad jump over six feet
social distance's now's the goal
keep away from me my pal
play your prim and proper role.

Don't touch your face at all
you don't know where those hands have been
don't cough or pant for breath
when will this virus ever end?

Stay at home for months and months
locked up in your dwelling
don't buy from take out food too much
who knows just what they're selling?

Read or watch the television
listen to music too -
we're all going bananas
this much I know is true.

Father, I will know thee,
much better after death;
once that I have taken,
my final, dying breath.

For we must die,
before we live;
and as Your son,
one life, we live.

We offer up our lives to You,
in fervent hope;
You'll see us through.

For in this thing called life,
our work is but a test;
and what comes afterward,
will all be for the best.

Your truth's a shining light,
a beacon from above;
in life's relentless fight.

A lamp unto our hurried feet,
where hearts and souls;
so often meet.

The glow of day, is fading fast,
the things we love, they never last;
we put our treasured hope in You,
knowing You will see us through.

You are the true, eternal dream,
where things are not, quite what they seem;
in You, we truly, clearly see,
we'll live on in, Your memory.

September morning;
bright, fresh and clean;
autumn's in the air,
felt,  but yet, unseen.

The dawn is past,
the day is nigh;
I greet the sunshine,
with a joyous sigh.

I drink in deeply,
the breath of early morn;
view the placid lake,
the sunflowers adorn.

Jax tugs gently on his leash,
the spring is in his walk;
he nudges grass aside,
among the flower's stalk.

Man and his best friend,
on their daily stroll;
each on his own path,
each with his own goal.

The campground is deserted,
it's quiet and serene;
no crowds of noisy people,
in truth, there's no one seen.

I scout each hidden site,
to see which one is best;
but they all look the same,
can't tell one from the rest.

Eighteen bucks for one night,
the price keeps going higher;
my camping days are fading,
to the tents, I don't aspire.

Old age has softened me,
a bed is more my speed;
the refrigerator's there,
and has all I'll ever need.

The campground is deserted,
it's closed for this fall season;
there's only ghosts of campers past,
that slept there for a reason.

I remember when -
you looked at me
with love,
with desire in your eyes;
you never said a word -
just smiled and
took my hand -
how swiftly the time flies.

I remember when -
your voice was
my delight
your laughter cheered me much;
you looked at me
with love,
you blew me air kisses
you nodded when I spoke
and I melted at your touch.

I remember when -
you wrapped me in
your arms
and a treasured bond we made;
we held each other tight
in between us
smothered space -
some memories never fade.

I remember when -
you looked at me
with love,
the world was beautiful and grand;
that was years
and years ago
but time does not forget,
and nothing worked as planned.

Yet I remember when
you  looked at me
with love,
my nights were filled with sweetened dreams;
now nights are short
and restless,
the dreams destroyed -
undone by lies and petty schemes.

When love unravels,
nothing stays the same;
but I remember when,
you softly called my name;

and you looked at me
with love =

it was long before,
the sorrow came.

Due to circumstances beyond our control,
we have only gruesome, tragic, unfathomable stories,
to present to you on this most ordinary day.
Thank you for your patience.
(The CBS evening news crew)

Agape love is God's great love -
for strangers and for friends -
for every human being -
a love that never ends.

Compassion for the future -
for the promise of tomorrow -
when wars will not exist -
in a place that knows no sorrow.

A heaven, here, on earth -
with Christ, our righteous king -
where peace will reign forever -
when all the angels sing.

Where joy will follow happiness -
where the word of truth is spoken -
where there will be no lies -
where nothing there is broken.

A world of constant sunshine -
where darkness is not known -
where agape love abounds -
where love is always shown.

The leaf is set to fall,
crimson, yellow, brown;
'tis the autumn of the year,
when all the leaves come down.

I love the crunchy sound they make,
when the foot falls ******* them;
the dying leaves surrender,
now broken from its stem.

They dance across the highway,
they swirl and churn with glee;
but do the people notice?
sometimes I think, just me.

In the hills of old Vermont,
the maples are the best;
so bright, the falling leaf,
so separate from the rest.

Like us, they are unique,
with the fashion show they bring;
they call tourists from all states,
and cause one's heart to sing.