I have nothing I didn’t earn,
But it took me forty years to learn,
The lessons my wise old Father taught me,
All the gifts of life and love he brought me.
There’s nothing lost in a fight but pride,
And nothing to be gained in taking sides.
Be a clown or wear a sad frown,
The value of everything is going down.
Looking so far forward, they think I’m backward.
Now I’m writing things close to awkward.
Smashing, splashing, is it all a dream?
Waiting for the boat to come back upstream.
Alone with nature, finding peace,
Scribing and thinking, looking for release.
The peace that will never, ever come,
I’ll keep looking anyway, my face is numb.
My heart is sick and all because,
My wise old man is almost lost.