It’s twenty years ago, the end of August,
I was forty- five years old, by chance, I wrote,
My very first song/poem. I am sitting in the same room,
Like then all alone, When I received a sad call, on the telephone.
A drinking buddy, Randy, stumbling on the words, he had to say,
His buddy Jamie, fell off a cliff, his last step, his life,
Ended that day. I had never planned to write, a song or poem,
I could hear Randy’s voice, he was lost, so alone.
I remember, arguing with, a voice inside, of me,
Which kept, saying you can do it, just write you will see.
I gave it a try, I was probably high, Within about,
One hour, Jamie’s Song, I had printed in pencil, before my eyes.
To this date, I have around two thousand finished, with about,
Another four hundred started, I never finished those songs,
My siblings, parents, the lady I married, and Randy,
Left this life, they have all passed along. There is no happy ending,
At least for today, I do thank God, for the talent, of writing words,
In a special way, the ideas can arrive anytime night, or day I then try to arrange them, in an understanding way, then start another, and lay the finished one aside. A bittersweet feeling, I should feel proud inside,
I know there will be times in everyone’s life, we should have,
A beaming smile, which is washed away by tears from our,
The Original: Tom Maxwell© 8/15/22 AD