Sometimes we think we know the world and all that dwells within,
perhaps we think we just aren’t loved and that is such a sin.
Not in ways of holy books or idols on the shelf,
but a sin against your own esteem, for we need to love our self.
How could one stand in a pleasant place, where love gives off a glow,
and still be heard to say, they really do not know.
Love is in the food we eat and how it is prepared
love is in the rooms we share and how another cared.
Love is in the time we have though often not enough,
love is in the hours no matter, smooth or tough.
Puppies too have loved you without ever saying so,
Yet here I am a simple man, who never lets you know.
I give in the ways I understand and sometimes they are weak
When I know that as a woman its loving words you seek.
So here it is on paper, it is the way I am
A simple little poet, not worth green eggs and ham.
But even though my words are poor and pockets full of air,
You must feel after many years, the poet does really care.
WHC

Time is flying by and I have little heart to fly with it.
I try and find a path to travel, in a place I won’t get hit,
But enemies like gravel, get stuck in all our shoes
And I fight them every single day, like a drunk who pays his dues.
A feast is in the woods ahead, I see it in the corner of my eye
I hope I can prepare myself so northern nights won’t make me cry.
I will dance in sparkling firelight with the woman of my life
She pretends I’m in another place and perhaps she’s not my wife.
Can’t say that I can lay the blame, my warmth has dwindled down
To where my heat is something like a dark and dingy town
Full of ghosts and memories that haunt whatever moves
Like a bent and worn out needle trying to find the grooves.
Time is such a wicked thing, whether it comes or goes
It always finds the secret path that no one ever knows.

Time is a vicious enemy, it creates crevices of pain in both the face and the lonely heart.
There is no way that a lonely man with a world of motivation
can have a brand new start.
I am old , the wrinkles are a giveaway, the energy and weakness
tells the story
Full of blood and torment, of anger, and sadness all that's crude
and gory.
I need a soul on point,  someone to believe, with a suit of fearless
steel
someone to convince me that all the things that scare me
just aren't real.
Can you be that leader the one that will stand over me be on guard
and protect me
or will you leave me when the war begins  to leave a world of souls
alone to be
Just let me know if I should shine my armour and be prepared to
stand alone
or watch from the sidelines  in frozen ****** fear
and sit and cry a single tear.

I been thinking a lot about this **** growing old
Can’t eat what I want and my feet get cold.
Don’t have much money but I can’t fix that
Don’t eat much junk but I still get fat.
Don’t get to travel or see no stuff
Even getting out of bed is getting **** rough.
Gotta  watch the ***** and I don’t have ***
can’t mow the lawn or build no decks.
The government says gonna help me out
That's some **** I seriously doubt
But I have to hang in no other choice
Can’t start screaming or I’ll lose my old voice.
So I sit on my couch like a bump on a log
And stare cross the room at my nice little dog.
He seems so relaxed curled up like a snail
Closing his eyes and wagging his tail.
Wish I could be just like him
Sleeping and eating being young and slim.
But the facts of the matter are a slap in the face
The old man is destined to die in this place.
So I’m thinking I’ll try the party route
If I gotta go I’ll be happy going out.

Even though I cast a shadow and create an echo in the hills
I know I am no longer real, just dust on old window sills.
It is my ashes scattered hither and yon, near but far
leaving just a memory and a long and jagged scar.
So sad to no longer be, empty but full of movement
like a piece of glass, shimmering but yet bent.
Where am I, the sky seems dark above me all the time,
even my dreams no longer exist unless they are in rhyme.
If I am not here then why do I struggle to sleep?
why too does the music that I hear make me weep?
Am I really just a bitter shadow, left from past days
will I have a lasting legacy made in other ways?
A shadow cannot know these things or imagine any dream
things for us who are scattered will never be as they seem.

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.

Ah the single life, so very sweet,
as lively as dancing feet.
Always moving, learning, meeting
rushing, loving, greeting.
New happenings most every day
If I must go
then what a way.

Ah, hindsight, what a gift
as valuable as time is swift.
For I recall that single life
and what I needed most....a wife.