A pitcher of lemonade
Sunday newspaper scattered
Like leaves on the floorboards
My best friend lies content next to my rocker
As I stare out into paradise
I think on all my blessings
Just a plain ol’ cabin
In a valley of green
Wrapped in the arms of tall peaks
The days grow short
Autumn’s long since passed this way
Those hills tell me all I need to know
Their heads snow capped now
It’s time to hunker down
My best time
Cup of Jo
Last slice of apple pie
My old pal looks up as if to say
Ain’t this a good life?
You bet my friend
It’s the best there is
For two such as we.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.
We are living now our regrets and our failures, the ache of what we wish could be again,…
We touch one another with defter fingers at night. Rain sounds different, its steady falling…
Philosophers shilly-shally, but it’s true: you are me; I am you. This dust, these rays,…
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