Category Archives: poem

A Politically Correct … Holiday ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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The holiday season approaches, and the mail deadlines loom; yesterday was the last day to send regular mail to arrive for the holidays. While we sing of “Peace on Earth, Goodwill to non-gender specific personages,” I thought it would be good time to look over somethings about what now has to be a politically correct holiday!

Here’s something for that last minute gift:

Should you go a’caroling, I would be remiss if I didn’t give you the correct version to sing:

Deck The Halls
Kristine Austin

This song uses the Spanish protocol endings on the refrain:
“Fa la la la la, la la la la-” Feminine
“Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo-” Masculine

Deck the halls with boughs of non-endangered plant species
Fa la la la la, la la la la

‘Tis the season to be self-actualizing
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Don we now our alternate-lifestyle apparel
Fa la la la la, la la la la

Toll the ancient non-sectarian-winter-solstice-equal opportunity holiday carol
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

See the blazing log of non-sectarian-winter-solstice-holiday-non-endangered wood before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la

Play the harp without unnecessary brutality and join the new paradigm chorus
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Sing we emotionally stable in a collective group effort,
Fa la la la la la la la la

Heedless of the weather patterns despite the effects of global warming,
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Fast away the mature year passes
Fa la la la la la la la la

Hail the new year without any implicit ageism, ye persons
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Dance in a non-hierarchical manner in merry esoteric measure,
Fa la la la la la la la la

While I tell of non-materialistic, non-sectarian-winter-solstice-holiday treasure,
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

And hopefully, your cards will reflect the new found sense of the time of year.

A Politically Correct
Holiday (or no holiday) Greeting

Best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most joyous traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, but with respect for the religious persuasion of others who choose to practice their own religion as well as those who choose not to practice a religion at all;

Additionally, a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions have helped make our society great, without regard to the race, creed, color, religious, or sexual preferences of the wishes.

(Disclaimer: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others and no responsibility for any unintended emotional stress these greetings may bring to those not caught up in the holiday spirit.)

—this is a repeat, but bears repeating!!

A Short Thought ~ Late Evening Thoughts

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Yesterday I found this image of the world according to Ptolemy (born around 85 A.D. and died around 185 A. D.) As I was looking at this image, I got to wondering what kind of a map of my life could be made. Where would things go? Would there be more mountains than valleys? What about rivers, oceans and such. I began to sketch around some ideas…then decided that I would just stick with enjoying this beautiful rendition of what the man knew.
(For a larger view —>click here<—)

And as I often do, I’ve turned to others to describe their feelings ..

Blessed Earth

Consecrated waters flow
From this blessed earth I know.
We owe so much to this earth,
And its life supply of hearth
Here everything thing can grow.

Consecrated waters flow,
From this blessed earth I know.
I was born here,
And I shall die here.
Precious times, this earth did sow.

Consecrated waters flow,
From this blessed earth I know.
It has seen all my days,
And every one of my childish ways.
Oh beautiful earth I hoe!
—Ashley Donovan

Waves at Hawkwood
(from the book “In Touch with Water”)

This grass is like the sea;
I ride over it with big strides
uphill away from the spray of civilisation.
Deep breaths of green
rinse over my head and chest.

At the forest edge the water level rises;
trunks are awash with ivy.
The green sound of crows
flaps up from the valley
like wet raincoats.

Stalks bob buoyant heads
in the wind, and I take
the seed of their image
back with me towards the buildings
where roses cling to liferaft walls.

I walk in the translucent water
of silence.
The wooded hill behind the house
is a tall green wave
towering over the place.
—written by Julia (Jay)
(note that the three lines in italics can also be a haiku)

And last ~

Shall earth no more inspire thee

Shall earth no more inspire thee,
Thou lonely dreamer now?
Since passion may not fire thee,
Shall nature cease to bow?

Thy mind is ever moving,
In regions dark to thee;
Recall its useless roving,
Come back, and dwell with me.

I know my mountain breezes
Enchant and soothe thee still,
I know my sunshine pleases,
Despite thy wayward will.

When day with evening blending,
Sinks from the summer sky,
I’ve seen thy spirit bending
In fond idolatry.

I’ve watched thee every hour;
I know my mighty sway:
I know my magic power
To drive thy griefs away.

Few hearts to mortals given,
On earth so wildly pine;
Yet few would ask a heaven
More like this earth than thine.

Then let my winds caress thee
Thy comrade let me be:
Since nought beside can bless thee,
Return–and dwell with me.
–Emily Bronte

Birthdays and Friendship ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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Today was an absolutely wonderful day. I spent my birthday with D&D, two of my closest real life friends here. We had some food, a lot of fun – and a couple of not-so-gentle libations. It was a day of laughter, sharing and being alive. I found these two thoughts about friendship – and wanted to pass these on to you as well.

Friendship isn’t always easily described. The Eskimos, they say, have a hundred different words for snow. Unfortunately, the English language isn’t quite as innovative, though it has vast opportunities to differentiate meaning. Certainly, Love is one of those opportunities. And so, too, is Friendship.

Instead of different words, however, we’re stuck with simple adjectives. Close friend. Best friend. Childhood friend. Intimate friend. Trusted friend. Beloved friend. But whether you use adjectives or different words, few could deny the nearly infinite meaning in such a simple word.

Friends are special people. We can’t pick our family, and we’re sorely limited in the number of them at any rate. Society and mores (and often our own conscience) dictate we select a single mate. But our friends can be as diverse and infinite as the adjectives we choose. Our friends, in a very real sense, reflect the choices we make in life.

I found this poem about Internet friends – I think it applies FAR beyond the poets original intent ~

Two Souls – One Voice

although two souls are meeting
there is but one voice
capturing the moment
captivating and controlling
the thoughts, actions, words
leading the way for conscious
desire and decisive emotion

stories and daily goings- on
are frequently passed
between the one voice
and the intermixed beings
creating a warm happiness
a sense of belonging
an aura of completeness
a comfortable existence

time, a distant memory
fading in and fading out,
its power and autonomy fall
on blissfully ignorant,
yet distinctly aware,
ears – focused and true

with the quantity
of well spent hours
adding up and summarizing
the feelings and beliefs
shared and opposed,
comes an ability
to confide and uphold
moments, eternities
abundant with understanding.
–paulus

butterfly pictures from another dear friend K

Take Time ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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I ran across this poem today, and fell immediately in love with it. Hopefully, you will enjoy it as well.

Take Time For The Little Things

Take time…to notice the dewy web clinging cautiously to the morning grass.
Take time…to feel the fire’s warm glow, and hear the crackling wood as it sparks randomly upwards.
Take time…to smell the sweet aroma of cookies wafting from the bustling kitchen.
Take time…to appreciate the laughter of children enjoying the first days of Spring.
Take time…to listen of the rushing stream as it glides swiftly under fallen limbs and over mossy pebbles.
Take time…to admire the diligence of the chattering squirrels seeking stores for their winter nests.
Take time…to wonder at the intricate crystal patterns frosting early morning windows.
Take time…to notice arid, shriveled leaves crunching with each step, along the tree-lined path.
Take time…to watch Autumn’s crispness paint changes from branch to branch, decorating the landscape for a short time.
Take time…to feel the cool breeze blowing in the promise of a summer rain.
Take time…to hear the clicking crickets echoing in the blackness.
Take time…to count the stars as they emerge from the graying sky, one by one filling the dark.
Take time…to hear the lapping waves pound against the grainy surface, then recede in answer.
Take time…to enjoy the fragrant scents of blooming newness and life, sprouting an array of colors where brown slept many long months.
Take time…to follow a firefly as it winks across open-air chasing the evening silence.
Take time…to share a smile.
Take time…to give a hug.
Take time…to acknowledge a kindness.
Take time…to tell someone you care.
Take time…to say, I love you.
–Barbara S. Gosa

Early Morning Thoughts ~ Choice Thoughts

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Continuing yesterday morning’s post on choice,
here are some other peoples thoughts:


George Eliot:
The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice.

Denis Waitley:
There are two primary choices in life; to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.

John Wayne:
Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.

Kahlil Gibran:
We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.

Frank Swinnerton:
We would rather be in the company of somebody we like than in the company of the most superior being of our acquaintance.

Leo Buscaglia:
What we call the secret of happiness is no more a secret than our willingness to choose life.

Edgar A. Guest:
You are the person who has to decide. Whether you’ll do it or toss it aside; you are the person who makes up your mind. Whether you’ll lead or will linger behind. Whether you’ll try for the goal that’s afar. Or just be contented to stay where you are.

Gene Roddenberry:
A man either lives life as it happens to him, meets it head-on and licks it, or he turns his back on it and starts to wither away.

William Jennings Bryan:
Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.

Aristotle:
For what is the best choice, for each individual is the highest it is possible for him to achieve.

Jim Rohn:
Happiness is not by chance, but by choice.

Wayne Dyer:
Heaven on earth is a choice you must make, not a place we must find.

Neil Peart:
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.

Liz Carpenter:
Instead of looking at life as a narrowing funnel, we can see it ever widening to choose the things we want to do, to take the wisdom we’ve learned and create something.

Napoleon Hill:
It is always your next move.

Jean Nidetch:
It’s choice – not chance – that determines your destiny.

Frederick Bailes:
Man’s power of choice enables him to think like an angel or a devil, a king or a slave. Whatever he chooses, mind will create and manifest.

Oprah Winfrey:
Right now you are one choice away from a new beginning – one that leads you toward becoming the fullest human being you can be.

If
by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn out tools;


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!

Early Morning Thoughts ~ Alone

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What a loaded word ~ alone. I been wrestling with the word and the reality for quite a few days. Being a male (to say nothing of being a gay male) of a certain age, it is something that I either deal with, or it will deal with me. As I looked back over quite a few years, I came to the realization that it actually had been quite some time since I had been what I would call alone…no one around. Even when I taught school in India – I was blessed with a cook that was there and very talkative and students in and out all the time. I went from there, to working in a treatment center for emotionally disturbed children and lived on campus. I got married, was married for quite sometime, divorced. I then became room mates with ZZ (who I’ve written about before). And now, I am alone.

ALONE ~

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.


There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
–Maya Angelou

And the key for any of us feeling this way is in the refrain in the poem: And I can hear the moan, ‘Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. So now,I realize I have choices I need to make. I can huddle in my apartment and feel as if there is nothing here, and nothing around – or I can realize what is missing is my reaching out and being a part of what is around me.

To share a few: There’s C who reached out to me via email and asked admission to my life. I feel as if I can share almost anything with him. (and he never “shoulds” all over me!)
And EB who has even gently corrected a post I made…and made me laugh about it in the process
(and is determined that I get back into playing Everquest even though my heart misses my poor World of Warcraft undead horde warlock).
And SBG who on the phone always wants to know what’s happening and makes me feel very sensual and worthwhile – even when I’m sitting unshaven in my worn tattered shorts and t-shirt. D&D who live here in Houston and share their ups and downs with me (and in some cases around me). And there are others – I would love to have the entire alphabet – recently I discovered K who drops me delightful emails and has even begun to call. And others who make my life enjoyable – either by presence, email or phone.

But it would be possible – I suppose – to simply decide that none of this mattered. I could go to the fact that there’s no one here with me, that the side of the bed he would be occupying is slightly covered with books and magazines. But sometime ago I ran across a saying that when I look at the straight and gays I see and read about, and ones I see in bars, it becomes an even stronger truth in me: It is better to be alone for the right reasons, then to be with someone for the wrong ones.

Are all these connections physical? No, but they are connections that build up and encourage. I am choosing ALL kinds of connections. I learned a long time ago that there are two types of people: Those that want the best from you and encourage you to be that (even if it means you surpass them) and those that want you down where they are and to go no further. So, by reaching out I’m creating connections – connections that build me up and create something where there might have been only a vacuum before. Of course, all is not a bed of roses or (heaven forbid) posies. Life IS messy, and people will be people and their lives can be messy. But I’ve learned and am learning – if we share it together, we have a much better chance of making a success of it.

Does that mean that I have no use for someone in my life? Absolutely NOT! What a thought!!
As a matter of fact, I would be willing to send anyone an application if they are so interested. What it does mean? That I am not going to sit and worry about the why someone isn’t falling into my life – but rather I’m going to continue to enjoy my life and living. And someday, someone will be there to share it…in every sense of the word. In the meantime, to quote the song from Auntie Mame: “Open a new window – open a new door!!!”

Tree roots and dog in window by Juergen Kollrorgen
World of Warcraft warlock – Slayer

Early Morning Thoughts ~ A Childlike Poem

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Today I went throught a lot of “stuff.” No, not head “stuff” … but as George Carlin would say “stuff-stuff.” I got into some boxes, notes and scribblings. I’m glad I did it, and not someone else. There was quite a bit in the “what on earth?” category. But I found some teaching notes on a children’s poem. I realized that I remembered bits and pieces of the poem, but not the beauty of the entire piece. So, I sat down a re-read it and realized that with all that’s going on in the world (and in my life)there really is relevance. (and yes, there are times I do feel like an oyster!!)

The Walrus and the Carpenter
by Lewis Carroll

`The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright–
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done–
“It’s very rude of him”, she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead–
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand:
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed–
Now, if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice.
I wish you were not quite so deaf–
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick.
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,

Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.’

third illustration by Kevin Finney http://www.kevinfinny.com

Early Morning Thoughts ~ what about love?

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In the wonderful musical “Oliver” there is an amazing tune: “Where is Love?” Where indeed. As I mentioned yesterday in early morning thoughts, I too am waiting. At my (.. ahem ..) age, being alone is sometimes not the best in the world. However, I have learned that it is better to be alone for the right reasons, than to be with someone for the wrong reasons. Will I know? How will I know love?

Does it fall from skies above?
Is it underneath the willow tree
That I’ve been dream of?

Will I ever know the sweet “hello”
That’s only meant for me?

Must I travel far and wide?
‘Til I am bedside the someone who
I can mean something to …

Several years ago I wrote the following. The story of how it came to me is not as important tonight as what I felt, and what resonated within me. I have shared this poem very rarely however, with tonight’s/today’s thoughts I felt it links to all that is here this morning.

You Looked

You looked at me and smiled.
I was unprepared.
You looked at me and spoke.
I was unprepared.
You looked at me and touched me.
I was unprepared.
And, for a moment, only a moment,
Unable to speak,
Unable to smile,
Unable to touch.
Then, I looked and smiled.
I looked and spoke.
I looked and touched.
In that moment,
that moment of happening,
I knew. I knew what I was worth.
I knew who I was.
I knew what I was.
And I was grateful.

Copyright wd

I Held a Jewel in My Fingers

I held a jewel in my fingers
And went to sleep
The day was warm, and winds were prosy
I said, “Twill keep”

I woke – and chide my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own.

Emily Dickinson


The Rainbow

. . . she saw the dun atmosphere over the blackened hills opposite, the dark blotches of houses, slate roofed and amorphous, the old church-tower standing up in hideous obsoleteness above raw new houses on the crest of the hill, the amorphous, brittle, hard edged new houses advancing from Beldover to meet the corrupt new houses from Lethley, the houses of Lethley advancing to mix with the houses of Hainor, a dry, brittle, terrible corruption spreading over the face of the land, and she was sick with nausea so deep that she perished as she sat.

And then, in the blowing clouds, she saw a band of faint iridescence colouring in faint colours a portion of the hill. And forgetting startled, she looked for the hovering colour and saw a rainbow forming itself. In one place it gleamed fiercely, and, her heart anguished with hope, she sought the shadow of iris where the bow should be.

Steadily the colour gathered, mysteriously, from nowhere, it took presence upon itself, there was a faint, vast rainbow. The arc bended and strengthened itself till it arched indomitable, making great architecture of light and colour and the space of heaven, its pedestals luminous in the corruption of new houses on the low hill, its arch the top of heaven.

And the rainbow stood on the earth. She knew that the sordid people who crept hard-scaled and separate on the face of the world’s corruption were living still, that the rainbow was arched in their blood and would quiver to life in their spirit, that they would cast off their horny covering of disintegration, that new, clean, naked bodies would issue to a new germination, to a new growth, rising to the light and the wind and the clean rain of heaven.

She saw in the rainbow the earth’s new architecture, the old, brittle corruption of houses and factories swept away, the world built up in a living fabric of Truth, fitting to the over-arching heaven.

D. H. Lawrence

Early Morning Thoughts ~ waiting and looking

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Whether the love is real and physical, lost and still enshrined in the heart or still something to be attained ~ this poem speaks on so many levels. And yes, I’m one that’s waiting, but it will be worth it!

Late At Night –
Poem by Nima Youshij

Translated from Sorani Kurdish,
 adopted to English and Romanised from Arabic scripts by Dr Rebwar Fatah

At the moment
When the shadows seep
Between branches of the trees

The love of your sweet heart
Is sad for the darkness of night
At that moment
My eyes are watching the road
For you

Late at night
At the moment
When the motionless valleys and hills
Are the body of a soulless snake

At that moment,
When convolvulus, like a lover,
Embraces the bodies of the pine trees
Whether I am in your memory or not
My mind is only with you
In the way that I came to being
My eyes are still watching the road
For you.

(entwined trees from a painting by Patty Torres)

In Romanised Kurdish
Shew diringan

Shew diringan
Lew demeyida sêber le nêwan liqî telacinda
Resh deçinewe
Ewînidarî dillixesiteyî to be tarîkî shew mate
Lew demeyida emin çawim le rêgate

Shew diringan
Lew demeyida ke shîw u doll
Çeshinî cesteyî marî bêgîn
Le bizûtin dademênê

Lew demeyida
Gullî lawilaw desit le bejinî seriwî shaxan dehallênê
Eto yadim bikeyî ya na
Emin bîrim her lelate
Çonê ke bûm
Emêsitakesh
Emin çawim le rêgate

Poem by Persian poet Nima Youshij (1895 – 1969)
Translated from Farsi to Kurdish by Nasir Husami
Translated form Kurdish to English by Dr Rebwar Fatah
Composed by Fariborz Fazari

grateful for all ~

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Since I don’t drive, the bus is my usual form of transportation. Several weeks ago, during some really wet, nasty weather, I watched a very elderly, frail gentleman get on the bus with two plastic shopping bags. I became concerned because it was obvious he was not well – at one point he almost passed out from coughing. The bus driver didn’t even ask him for the fare. He sat across from me, and I realized that not only was he not well, but homeless – everything in those two bags was everything he had. Several tried to offer things – but he was (I think) too concerned with getting in trouble with the bus driver – who already had an “I’m thinking how to take care of this” look.

I teared up as I sat there, and realized that no matter what is going on in my life, whatever might not be working well in my body I need to be grateful. I have been blessed. A couple of stops before mine, he got off.

When my stop came as I was leaving, I put the fare for the gentleman in the fare box, and thanked the driver for his kindness.

Old Man In The Park

By David Lewis

Old man why do you walk so slow?
To give me time to see the flowers grow.

Old man why do you stop and linger?
To listen to the birds, natures singer.

Old man why do you smile as lovers walk past?
I remember my youth, which passed so fast.

Old man what is your wish for the world today?
That people love people, stop wars without delay.

Old man who is the Lady by your side?
My wife, now almost seventy years a bride.

Old man,sometimes you look sad, then smile!
Come walk with me, share my dreams, down the last enchanted mile.

dr