Silence . . .
like a candle glows
In it's  warmth
leaves an afterglow

Fog my brother
wise
allows the future
to disguise

Dusk in  
minutes
of dreams  
realizes it must release  everything

It's not a love song
It's not a long song
It's not . . .

The Phoenix
rises . . .
spitting out ashes
desires
and destinations
over and over and over again

I come in
Into the office
And let the
Lady know
I’m here for
And interview,
With broken
English she
Tells me to
Wait in the
Waiting room
Since I’m early,
So I sit in
the middle
Of a room
Of People
I’ve never
met,
Some of them
Probably
More anxious
As I've been
Before,
There’s a
Mural of
A bull
With horns
Like the devil
On the wall,
And I sit
And wait,
Until my
Nervous
System
kicks in,
And my
Legs
Start to
Twitch,
What an
Eternal
Wait.

The boy tired of life,
See how hard he tried.
He need Somebody to lean.

Here she is….

That eyes remind me of the half moon.
Those hair complete the roots of the Eden trees.
If she smiles, the stars hide of jealous.

Tired he is , thus she gave her shoulder to lean.
Not the tired boy anymore, thus she made him her
Man.

Hanging out at the fishin’ pond I’d catch either blue gill or bass
Nearby was a huge field of bluebell flowers & Kentucky blue grass

Just in time for the 3pm train I can hear in the distance the blaring whistle
Giving a warning as it comes down the track whipping past the purple thistle

Riding slowly by the conductors knew I’d be fishing I’d hold up my fish, they’d open the window
And they’d say that’s a nice fish Lynne, Can you catch one for me kiddo?

They knew me by name because they sometimes Stop their train get off and say hello and come visit my grandparents on the farm.
They’d sometimes stop, get a plate of grandmas shuckie beans and cornbread, cobbler for a meal, after all quick stop, was really no harm.

It was a great time for all when they would stop by on occasion
For the railroad men to stop by, it was for them a little gratification

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                     You’re in Good Shape – for a Man Your Age

                         Which is what my NP and doctors say

My heart has a gadget to make it tick
I stumble about with a walking stick
My brand-new glasses are ever so thick
My neck it suffers a perpetual crick
And I just don’t get around so quick
But I’ve still got my hair; it’s pretty slick
And I’m young in spirit, still doing my schtick!