A 1,000 sailors have nothing against a few well groomed tailors
However a rich man could not last a second in a pile of quick sand
The call to sea is the same as that of a call to a tree
They are both living and dead, Their growth is the giving bread
One serves their master at the bay, the other spends time selling hay
The water is fresh in both cases and both men have seen many faces
A sailor never retires, but a tailor does as such
For when he is no longer a tailor, he considers himself a failure
Yet he continues on, looking for a cause, never taking a pause
Until one day, walking by the shore he sees something so beautiful his eye begin to sore
So he takes his riches, buys a ship, summons a crew, and plans his trip
Heading to nowhere in sight, only to see the beauty so bright
And so the man was once a tailor, he is now a sailor

I'll go back to my roots,
and sprout up new strength;
and when I blossom again,
it'll be done beautifully,
for the bees and butterflies,
and the gardener who believed in me.

Starting out the new year with memories going back
Reflecting on just what I did or what it was I lacked
I find myself being quite surprised and really sort of dazed
To have the memories that I have of all the changes made

Moving from the mountains to the desert of red sand
From the snow-covered hills and the pine trees oh so grand
From having all four seasons to only having two
Sometimes can make you crazy but never feeling blue

The skies here in the desert, are always very clear
When back up North the skies are gray and tend to make you tear
Moving down has given me a new look at my life
Another chapter, another poem, having coffee with my wife....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 2