Ode to a Friend

On the side of the road, on a balmy summer's night,
two friends had stopped for a smoke.
As the engine settled, they enjoyed their spir'tual rite,
talking of old times, telling old jokes.

Saturday nights, spent with Mary Jane,
some would have called it a crime,
but if it was you in that truck, you'd see it plain,
as simply two friends, passing the time.

Every weekend the same, spent playing this game,
searching for a party, with friends.
The drive was a must, but quite often a bust,
but week to week, that talk wouldn't end.

It's fair to say that we both knew a lot,
though, I know that he taught me a great deal,
as we drove through the night, bowl by bowl, spot by spot,
just living our youthful days out with zeal.

Valentine's Day

The casket lay open, at the head of the hall,
as the preacher took his place in front of us all.
He said a few words, about a long life, lived well,
told us of heaven, then warned us of hell.
Then, many stood up, spoke of lives she had touched,
other, just cried, knowing they'd miss her so much.
As the goodbyes were said, we all parted ways,
for we knew that nothing was left for us to say.
But as we were leaving, her sharpshin hawk flew,
as if she stopped by, to say, "How do you do?"
Just as quickly as it came, it then flew away,
as a passerby stopped, and said, "Happy Valentine's Day."

Self-Portrait 2/12/11

What do I see in the looking glass there?
Where once was a boy with dirty blonde hair,
Now stands a young man, his face lined with care.

As I stare deeply into those sunken brown eyes,
I see into his soul, and I realize,
Therein, despite all of his worries, a happines lies.

Though his hands may be calloused, his back may be bent,
His bills are all paid, his money's all spent,
But it was worth every penny if you knew where he went.

He won't ever be rich, yet will never be poor,
Since he knows that wealth seems to mean something more,
Than the money folks save, or the items they store.

His treasures lie, not in a shed full of junk,
Nor is it buried, deep down in a trunk.
No, it's more like a ship, that capsized, then was sunk.

If you're so lucky to find it, and so brave as to dive,
You'll see how it's passengers lived, while alive,
and can choose for yourself, who's impoverished, and who thrived.

Still, both are now here, decomposing to clay.
For richer, or poorer, we'll all end that way,
which that man in the mirror remembers, as he lives for each day.

This is what I'll remember, when I next see him there,
in the looking glass, meeting his pitiless stare,
and will know, that I too, can in that happiness share.

Lost 'n' Found

A hat, a coat, a purse, in a box,
beside me, and a discarded glove.
We sit and wait in Lost and Found,
where no one takes note to give us any love.

Day by day, we get passed by,
by all kinds of different folks.
Night by night, the crowds die down,
it's hard, in silence, to retain hope.

"So, who owned you?" the hat will ask,
of his dear ragtag coat friend.
"I was the coat of a camping man,
"Seeing mountain views that would never end."

The coat went on, as some will do,
"The sights I've seen have gotten me through.
"Since I was lost on the subway there,
"I'm left to wonder if my owner cares."

As his sentence ended, a hand reached down,
and he fell across his owner's back.
It took a month, but not just the coat was found
we all found the hope, that we all had lacked.