Been a while since daylight had any meaning for me
my life has been surrendered to the time I cannot see.
I listen to old tunes and read some memorable lines
I sample my cheap collection of local wines.
I sometimes dance alone making far too much noise
it's what a free spirit does when they have no real poise.
I may recover from this lose of a friend, yet another one
it's a frightening way to live a life wondering when you're done.
Its age that puts this pressure on a grieving soul
You wonder if tomorrow it'll be your body in a hole.
Stay young I say, fear not what is to be
pretend it's there for others but something you won't see.

Last night I dreamt of you, it was musical, sad, yet happy and alive.
I tried to stretch it out something like, a long summer drive.
It was full of memories, magic and touching with care.
I looked at all of you from your baby toes to your hair.
I danced with you slowly and close sometimes off beat
I tried to remember the miracle that caused us to meet.
I may never get to replay all the passion that once was there
But it doesn't and won't, ever change the love, and the way that I care.

Amid life's worst hours and all the torment that flies around us,
we strive to seek a safe haven that will shield us from the fuss.
Family quarrels and deep down secrets that tend to haunt
then there are the issues that we walk about and tend to flaunt.
So why do we stay and watch the demented show and not leave
why do we wear a tragically broken and scarred heart upon our sleeve.
Because we are human and in this world we know no other way
to tackle the burdens, fears and memories that we carry day to day.
So, on we go driving and pushing into an endless pool of dirt
only to find more and more of the deeply human hurt.
Welcome to confusion, the only thing we have as a  guarantee
so back we go in quick retreat so nothing is really under warranty.

WHC

I dance daily with the prospect of dropping like a stone,
the worry that finds itself most constant is that I'll be alone.
I stare into a mirror which never lies but tends to blur
yet the joys of yesterday's pleasures are still a constant lure.
Measurements and drugs and rules to control my day,
at the end of which I'm too tired to have much to say.
Is this where we all arrive in the so called golden years,
living day to day and night to night struggling with our fears?
Rocking chairs don't rock and old feet cannot dance
they just rest and hope that there is really a second chance.
Another way to make your final farewell and grand adieu,
perhaps a party loud and bad, declaring all that's done
recalling all the games you've played and all that you have won.
Maybe then a dinner prepared in the finest style
with all the flair to carry you on that final mile.
These fears will not hunt me down, I promise to be strong
I don't mind the falling , but I won't stay down for long.

As I lean against the windswept rock, a memory comes to me
of the days I spent on "The Courage Son" and the friends I lost at sea.
The Courage Son was a sturdy ship, built of solid oak,
it moved along on God's sweet wind , not on steam or smoke.
The crew that manned this vessel strong, were the dearest friends I've known.
But they didn't live to tell the tale or reap the seeds they'd sown.
The bravest of men shall never return from the ocean home they've won,
but I the lone survivor will remember what they've done.
On the 23rd day of January, in Eighteen Forty-nine,
the men and I were down below sharing bread and wine.
When a storm came up the likes of which none had ever seen.
The sails were soon a tangled mass and the ship began to lean.
The heavens seemed a sheet of black with cracks of blinding light,
a mast was struck and hit my head destroying my sense of sight.
While my friends were scrambling fore and aft with a speed propelled by fear,
my life was saved by a brave young man by the name of Samuel Wier.
He led me to a lifeboat filled with food and gear,
enough to last a single man for six months of a  year.
I felt my body carried and lowered in a boat
I realized without my sight, that I'd  now been put afloat.
I couldn't see the reasoning, for the pain had blurred my head
I was rolled and tossed so very close, to finally being dead.
The waves that banged against the boat made it hard for me to hear
the fire raging on the ship and screams that stemmed from fear.
My boat was adrift for hours before, The Courage Son went down,
I pictured the sea opening wide to accept her oaken gown.
I was rescued by a freighter just off a foreign coast
white and ill with fever I looked a certain ghost.
Now it's just my old white cane and the smells of the open sea
that recall the storm the devil sent and what it took from me.

The crowded streets seemed empty now, beneath the noon day heat,
as the devils and the invalids wait 'til dusk to meet.
Then the sunlight fades and the neon signs, attract the social crowd,
the silence dies and an echo's born as the deadly night grows loud.
A ***** blonde in a ***** coat, leans on a grey stone wall,
waiting to lead her regulars down a dark and dingy hall.
While a blind man steers his cane ahead to aid his weary feet,
he gropes his way to a barstool  where he and bottle meet.
The piercing sound of a siren is muffled by angry tongues,
as an old drunk falls in an alleyway clutching his heaving lungs.
The sight of the city from the fifteenth floor turns the heart to a giant pump,
as a ****** high in every way prepares for his final jump.
Dance hall girls line the stage and kick their legs in time,
as the prestige men in business suits order gin and lime.
An aging man with glass in hand finds friendship in the night
bringing back his childhood through the shouts of a barroom fight.
The pain goes on 'til the lights go out and the wolves all head for home
for those who have no place to rest the sidewalk is there to roam.

If I can’t quite see tomorrow and can’t deal well with today
Can I close these eyes that blind me and somehow find a way.
Will I fly up to the heavens, or will I drop down to the seas.
What if I’m not there to comfort, just at the time you please.
Well I’ll cry, yes I’ll cry, just as any other would,
And I’ll climb back up that hill again like any lover should.
Here we go, here we go, up another hill, trying to see tomorrow
Or what our dreams will ****,
Its not heaven that can hurt you, but the clouds that slow the way
So I’ll move my love at the speed of sound and reach you in a day.