As I sat, the subway groaned into motion.
Across from me , a face without emotion.
We sat in silence, the old woman and me.
Her face was worn with the struggles she'd seen.
Her body was frail from a life to hard,
It was clear to me she had played her last card.
As I looked at the woman, I could see in her eyes,
ghostly memories of people and days gone by.
I gave her a smile, but she lowered her head,
As if to say, " Don't ask... don't ask about the dead".

In this little room I write.
I write my thoughts so dear.
It is not for you I write.
I write mostly of my fears.

So in this little room I write,
a thousand thoughts and fears.
Out loud I can not say them,
for they would bring me tears.

It is at night I mostly write,
my mind won't let me rest.
So I put pen to paper,
and out my thoughts must crest.

I do not assume to know you,
or put you to the test.
For I am just a simple girl,
and my mind is quite a mess.

When Grandma was old,
what stories she told.
She knew every ryhme,
every verse every time.

I'd sit in her lap,
and say Grandma please.
Please tell me another
another one please.

I have a cat that loves me so,
why it is I do not know.

I am not famous, wealthy, or wise,
but I can see it in her eyes.
She shows her belly for me to pet,
I have never tired of it yet.

Her body's so warm and her fur is so soft,
without her love I would be so lost.
She stretches and yawns, then plunks at my book,
till I lay it down and give her a look.

She turns her back as if to say,
Why do that when we could play.
Sometimes when I feel so low,
here she comes to let me know.

That I am to her, and always will be,
the only person she loves to see.
I have a cat, I love her so,
Why it is, I think I know.

Don't buy the promises.
Don't listen to the man.
We all hear the music,
but some are in the band.

Some of US say peace.
Some of US say war.
Two of US are rich,
the rest of US are poor.

Most of US are broke.
Most of US are mad.
Some of US are working,
the rest of US are bad.

Most of US can eat,
some of US do not.
We all know it's wrong,
or have we all forgot.

I'd love to solve the problem,
I'd love to help a bit.
Come on my fellow hippies.
Come on and take a sit.

Some listen to their own song.
Most listen to the band.
But we all hear the music.
What happen to this Land?

Peace out.

There he stood against the world,
a boy not yet a man.
In a world that gave him lies,
he did not understand.

He lived his life without a thought
of what would then come after.
A life without a loving heart.
A life without much laughter.

Then one day a young girl came
and told him of the truth.
The boy just sat and thought a while
and then said "Where's the proof."

The young girl said there is no proof
in faith you must believe.
She pulled a Bible from her purse
and told the boy to read.

The boy then cried for quit some time,
at last his heart was filled,
not with hate but with joy,
his fate at last was sealed.

A baby boy this day was born,
His life for him He'd given.
Now the boy would live again,
For all his sins forgiven.

Now in the park an old man sits,
a Bible in his hand,and to the girl
with tears in her eyes, he say's,
"Don't worry there's a plan.