Music of our lives.
It’s been a while
since I’ve got round
To putting words
on paper down.
But life’s a busy
dizzy stream
Of people met
And places seen
One life now gone
No maybe two
My wife in passing
Took mine too
But she lives on
though in my mind
Her memories
never left behind
A precious treasure
locked away
To savor on
a troubled day
But this is not
a sad refrain
While she’s in heaven
I remain
And live a life
the gypsies know
An endless trek
avoiding snow.
Each fall I load
the truck with stuff
A truck that’s never
big enough
To hold our endless
piles of gear
Of things we need
lugged far and near
For now we have
another home
Way in the south
to which we roam
And spend our winters
in the sun
Good friends, fine meals
and dances fun
All older folks
I seem to see
And many
over eighty be
And life may end
for some real soon
For Florida’s
Heaven’s waiting room
But till that day
those folks aren’t wrong
To live life full
And party on.
So with the pack
I spend my time
And all their pastimes
Fully mime
But come the spring
the parties done
We flee the blinding
burning sun
Back to the north from
whence we fled
Th e north we love
Since winters dead
Back to our homes
We now all strive
Such is the music
Of our lives.
“So is it in the music of men's lives. King Richard II: V, v”
If you’d like more
of this long pun
I’m sorry folks
The writings done.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
Music of our lives.
It’s been a while
since I’ve got round
To putting words
on paper down.
But life’s a busy
dizzy stream
Of people met
And places seen
One life now gone
No maybe two
My wife in passing
Took mine too
But she lives on
though in my mind
Her memories
never left behind
A precious treasure
locked away
To savor on
a troubled day
But this is not
a sad refrain
While she’s in heaven
I remain
And live a life
the gypsies know
An endless trek
avoiding snow.
Each fall I load
the truck with stuff
A truck that’s never
big enough
To hold our endless
piles of gear
Of things we need
lugged far and near
For now we have
another home
Way in the south
to which we roam
And spend our winters
in the sun
Good friends, fine meals
and dances fun
All older folks
I seem to see
And many
over eighty be
And life may end
for some real soon
For Florida’s
Heaven’s waiting room
But till that day
those folks aren’t wrong
To live life full
And party on.
So with the pack
I spend my time
And all their pastimes
Fully mime
But come the spring
the parties done
We flee the blinding
burning sun
Back to the north from
whence we fled
Th e north we love
Since winters dead
Back to our homes
We now all strive
Such is the music
Of our lives.
“So is it in the music of men's lives. King Richard II: V, v”
If you’d like more
of this long pun
I’m sorry folks
The writings done.