I dare not look back on those days

those days, now lying among discarded dreams,

when the fires of youth exploded at the slightest spark.

Choice was a game we played to see who was right and who was wrong

and while we were playing hide-and-seek,

our world receded before our very eyes.

My mistakes resolved, my life reconciled,

I feel I have earned the right to die,

my greatest fear being that fate would repeat itself

and I would be reincarnated to this life.

My words now useless to you, perhaps only death can entertain them.

You, writer of love songs,

builder of dreams,

unshackled my heart

and gave me something

to believe in;

 
up high, from another realm,

we sing our song.

They laugh, and call us dreamers...

then lift their eyes to watch us fly.

Looking over

the vast expanse of the sea,

the line where heaven meets earth,

I released your soul to the winds.

The celebration of your life

will go on forever to all who knew you.

You are home now, and I am

no longer afraid to die.

Today it is not fear from which I beg relief,

rather, the gyroscope of nothingness.

Deliver me from clutching tightly

my trophies of regret that I acquired while

struggling for liberty.

Show me a time for remembering, and a time to forget.

Let me stand straight and tall so that I may see tomorrow

before I fly away.

She sang of building tie-dyed dreams

Where loneliness would end

Where things would be the way the should

And grasses would be green

She dreamed about pied pipers

And flying through the skies

Finding a place along the way

Where folks don't wish to die

***

She sang about her daddy

He was always on her mind

He'll give her candy if she's good

It was daddy all the time

But daddy didn't love her

And mama didn't care

She had no one to walk with

She didn't belong anywhere

***

She sang of horses in a tree

And buying plastic boots

And easy riders running loose

In store-bought cardboard suits

Buying high-priced liquor

And buying high-priced friends

East time she got back down and out

She'd do it all again

***

She sang of the River Jordan

How she'd sit down with The Lord

She'd walk and talk with Jesus

Until all heaven was bored

But she wound up on Black Mountain

Stoned but still alive

Then gave up her ghost to Jesus

In the Landmark, Room 105

There is a difference between

saying 'I love you' and shackling a spirit,

between basking in kisses and demanding a commitment

between warming by a fireplace and getting burned,

between a gift and a barter.

So you make your own decisions, create your own rules,

and know that goodbyes are okay.

Suddenly it's autumn and looking back across the way

The distance blends together, today and yesterday

I see the approaching sunset of a life that's not quite lived

And now there's left but winter that is all that's left to give

Stronger wings are flexed now, poised beneath the sky

I spread them in rebellion -- Can you see them?

Watch me Fly !

I watched an eagle soar so high - So free is he, so free! thought I

Following him with envious tears, I saw his shadow disappear

I thought that I would like to be like the eagle...oh! so free!

Just then I saw a stormy sky he must encounter as he flies

And like the eagle, flying high, so free! so free! so free am I

I shall no longer shed the tears as former shadows disappear

I am the eagle, still I'm me. I soar so high, I soar so free

I, too, shall meet with stormy skies - yet, like the eagle, still I fly!

She never learned she couldn't fly, that she had no magic wings

That there were no dragons to be slain, no castles and such things

For her, each star still has a name, she still thinks she can soar

For in her special magic world, her pain exists no more

Sparrow of a dainty wing, teach me how to always sing

How to disregard the pain, teach me how to fly again

Little sparrow, wounded one, teach me how to touch the sun

And how, through storms and through the rain, you always seem to sing again.

Sparrow in your comfort nest, help me find celestial rest

Touch me, Sparrow, heal my pain -- teach me how to fly again

Through the mist I see a castle as I stand in candlelight

And through a clearing I behold a brave one in the night

Upon his steed he rides away through tears, I, trembling, stand

Struggling with the memory of the kind touch of his hand

Who would believe this fairy tale of soaring through Dixie skies

And who'd believe a lady fair away with a knight would fly!

I pray that angels go with him until we meet again

And keep him safe, and give him grace

This knight who called me Friend

UNWRITTEN SONNETS

I will steal away...when the fog has cleared...

When time shall pass, then at last, my sonnets I shall write

When I am aged, on gilded page, with memories burning bright,

I shall pen of thoughts within before my thoughts take flight.

On quiet days, with golden phrase, I'll write for love's sweet sake.

Like fresh dew fuond upon the ground, new songs my words will make.

Though I grow old with thoughts untold, love still is much awake.

Love does not die as time goes by, but sweetly lingers on.

I'll sing my song with passions strong, and tell of loves I've known.

For none can tell of love so well as she who's loved but one.

MY INDIAN SUMMER

I've seen so many quiet mornings when shores are washed clean

of the gulf's mysteries brought in by rolling tides

driftwood resting on peaceful shores, and seagulls soaring high, and free.

I've watched summers come and seasons go - a million times, it seems.

But I've never seen a true indian summer.

I have philosophized and memorialized life, death, even fantasy

I have walked in lands where I would pray to never walk again,

mercifully led to a healing stream where broken wings are mended.

Ignoring life's mocking chants, I have chosen my own paths,

never letting go of my dreams.

I have confronted life's transitions with energies I did not know I possessed.

Refusing to be imprisoned in a narrowness,

I am forever grateful for all I have learned, and thankful

for a deliverance from the hells where my choices could have taken me.

I have learned to awaken and not wonder why.

Listen to my song. I have heard the echoes of the world.

I look forward now to the colors of my own Indian Summer.

On the wings of time we fly, you and I,

releasing all illusions that separate us.

You are a solid unshaken mountain I am scattered wildflowers

lying helpless on the ground.

Lift me up.

You are the evergreen high on the mountain

I am the stream that flows deep into your core.

I feel loved, and that alone is far above all my other inspired dreams.

I saw a poet's artful pen held in a gentle hand

I felt your poet's heart within our dream-built edenland

In magic lands of friendship, we soared so very high

With your kind and gentle strokes, you taught me how to fly.

And as we flew, I saw the tears I saw the tears of two.

One I claimed to be my own the other tear was you.

Can you see the seagull there, look up, and you will see

One set of wings is flying low, that seagull is me.

I can see the apple orchards left behind by you and me

I can see the comfort offered as I talked about the sea

Still the vision through my tears is empty every night

For I have lost my partner, and endure a lonely flight

We have flown a thousand skies, together, you and me

We have surveyed the garden, and sampled every tree

But people and their times are not forever one

And friendships are reduced to silhouettes against the sun.

This morning, the future arrived.

Inevitably, dawn drags on

in the light of one-great neons,

while old forty-fives play

"Send in the Clowns."

This day will suffice itself

like a tranquilizer melting on an anxious tongue.

Time curdles like sour cream and coffee,

silver threads among the gold -

and "Darling, we are growing old."

I lean out my mind's window,

and try to remember the past.

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