A gravestone worn with age and wind
Leans toward the west
A monument for what’s his name
Who used to be the best.
Those who knew him stood and wept
As they watched his final show,
But after this performance
There’s no place left to go.
Will they come back to see him now
as a friend without a stage?
Or simply write of what he did
on a torn and yellowed page.
The entertainer made us laugh
He put music in their head
But nothing fades like the memory
Of a man whose show is dead.

The teasing lines that draw me in,
from December’s cold to you,
The haunting voice that fills my head,
when a fleeting glance would do.
Bring it close, hold it near
we mustn’t let it fade.
I live to touch, I live to feel
the rainbows that you’ve made.
A veil of velvet hides my face,
as you turn and walk away
And I search within a world of words
for something new to say.
Like sweet hellos and sad goodbyes
its all been said before.
As frightening as an epitaph
is the closing of the door.
Watch the sun and watch the moon
as they fall down from the sky,
hear the sound as they hit the earth.
My eyes will ask you why?

I will be the one who throughout failures and erring ways was always there, sword in hand. When each sunrise comes, when rainbows hail their beauty, when the music of life plays best in spring, when you need warmth and love, I will be your Valentine. I will dance with you, see the world with you, serve feasts of the Gods for you and pour your wine. Words may sometimes escape my lips, but never my heart. My soul is with yours, they travel this rocky road together and will always do so. I will be your I have no canvas, no brush or even a vision that says enough,
I can not fly you hither and yon to warmth and glory,
I cannot bring flashing stones embedded in gold of many shades
I try to sing to you , but my voice dies like summer flowers in autumn’s chill, I cannot free you from burdens of daily life or release the pain of years gone by, I can not make promises for much beyond tomorrow’s dawn, but yet I will be your Valentine for eternity, I will be the one who loved you until the end of time.....forever Valentine.

Hair the colour of wheat with a backdrop of crashing waves,
near the cliffs of hardened stone with the dark and hidden caves.
She sits and walks her friends until her soul is hard and cold
her beauty is what saves her from the fate of growing old.
She has a heart the size of an Island, and eyes that always shine
The only flaw that I can find is this lady isn’t mine.
The wires allow our words to touch and our lonely eyes to meet,
But to wrap my arms around her is an unknown dream like feat.
I wait each day for a word or two, a sign her world is right,
But I go to bed with an aching soul in the heavy dark of night.
What I want is taken and so many roads to walk,
I work each solitary day waiting for that chance to talk.
I want to touch that face of ivory and feel the hair of gold
I want to revel in her warmth before I get too old.
Carol your quite amazing , that’s a chord that rings so true
And you my love remember , these words are just for you.

The weight of a huge chipped and worn rock lies upon our shoulders
it threatens our air supply, our energy is low and we are weak.
What little air breaks through is merely dust and dirt simply
meant to hinder our escape, to force us to scream in pain.
We will not....we will hold our breath until the clean sweet air of life
feeds us and stirs our souls and hearts to carry on. We will not weaken
again, we will not allow rocks and dust and wind and rain and scars from our past to prevent us from breaking free....we are different....we have more ....we are stronger and better.
We have purpose, meaning and time. We will fight and be wise and use love and wisdom and courage to protect and guide us.
If either of us is left alone the other will carry one with a soul resting on their shoulder for guidance and love .......we are a team.

I am a time traveler, I move quietly from today to tomorrow,
I am an ill traveler; I dance with pain and sing with sorrow.
“Who goes there” they call to me, deep in the night,
Not easing my pain, but just causing more fright.
I swing on a star sent by the pill, and swim in goblets of wine
I pray for release, I cling to a dream, one that’s sweet and divine.
I hear the music that all others miss; I taste the river of love
I feel the pounding, down deep in the earth, sent by something above.
As a traveler I go just a day at a time, so much to my dismay,
But if days were words and I was young, I’d still have little to say.
I wait for the spring its effortless growth feeling so warm and green
I lie in a field watching a dream, knowing it’s already been seen.
I drift over clouds, billowed and white, lined with silver they say,
But I fall through the cracks holding my pack onward to a new day.

As a rubber ball
the child’s heart is bounced
from concrete walls
while courtroom antics
are played out for spite by all.
Finger pointing, lying, loud voices
and between times an ice cream cone for a boy.
A boy or perhaps a toy
waits with this one or another, while robes and
books decide on a father or a mother.
Perhaps a Saturday father will be born, for rules
are rules and stated clear, they read that a mother’s
love is best.
Pay no mind to children’s love or reality.
Pacing floors and clouded eyes, stare at yellowed prints
adorning walls of aged wood and words.
Father speaks in turn of days gone by, promises love and speaks
of a son not a boy.
“Times may change” a voice whispers to the trembling man,
“the past may not endure”.
A miracle today they all say, as the majestic rooms hold
mumblings by the score.
Hand in tiny hand they move on out, to streets of hard cement,
where dreams are waiting to be built.
No Saturday father today, perhaps another time.