At least once or twice a week
I visit my parents grave
Reminiscing of the past
Wiping the tears away
Telling them all is fine
And that life is doing okay
Wish that they were still here
At least for another day

I show the picture of my wife
Tell them how much we're in love
And that they now have those grand-kids
Something they always dreamed of
This I tell them every time
They can't seem to get enough
I know how they both would be
So very proud of their son

I bring with me some spray and a rag
To to keep their names and memories clean
I try to be as good to them
As they had been to me
That's why I come here often
Every time that I am free
To give back the love
That they gave so easily

Mom and Dad I know your final days
Were tough for you to go through
But you did it with a smile
Cause that's just what you do
So as I sit here thinking
On that final lasting truth
My only wish this Christmas season
Would be to hold you one more time*
*And tell you again how much I love you...

I think I can remember a time
when skinned knees hurt more
than a broken heart.

Its totally deceiving,
the tales of the meaning of life.
Grow up,
go to school,
get a job,
work hard,
play hard,
pay your taxes,
and especially die hard.
But still my brain is running slower
than my online connection speeds.
So slow.
I ended the day spent and tired,
and filled with wasted deeds.
Bitter?
Maybe.
But who faults a man
for defining himself through his actions.
Ogling at the universe,
and simply breathing.
Meditation keeps me sane.


As you can probably tell,
my strife continues effortlessly.
Sliding down an icy road
with no chains
and my brakes at full.
When the tree comes to slam me,
I'll be ready.