A new spring in the stride.
Walking smiles ever so wide.
An acoustic jam in our room.
Soon to do ‘Dust my Broom’.
‘Jonny B Goode’ played so good.
Bolton Abbey in the mud.
Jam nights soon us three will.
Play songs out at such a thrill.
Your gorgeous smile that dont hide.
A new spring in your stride.
Many times I dont feel like a Dad.
To do all those things I never had.
Yes times then werent the same.
But my empty memories they remain.
Maybe sometime my boys will stay.
In our home for more than a day.
A thinking tired grey.
So much feeling to stray.
Arms that wont lift.
Feet that wont shift.
Thoughts that wont shout.
Eyes that do doubt.
It all does move away.
Clear is behind the grey.
It will all be OK?
Beauty what is?
What is beauty-on the surface, shallow or deep?
Times of hurt can make us feel weak.
Folks come folks go.
Sometimes I dont know?
I knew who has Beauty.
On the surface, shallow and deep.
The candles are burning out.
When something is sound it dont shout.
A mix of thoughts feels good.
The mix of thoughts like they should.
Should they feel in this way?
We find out another day.