Riding The Cooler Winds Back East

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Riding the cooler winds back east
Someday my simple dreams will prevail
Spent too many nights frozen & cold
Once again lost, I know he’s on my trail

Speak to me, for I’ll know if you tell the truth
Look at me, so I’ll know we’ll make it through
This soul damaged in these distant years
Wanting to be pure & return back to you

I need to shine down a path for your life
I want to be an example for you as you grow
May you always have shelter to weather a storm
I contain a perfect love you’ll come to know

You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to save me
A lifetime of joy just waiting for us to find
Adventures & endless discoveries ours to share
A new life, released from that which binds

*written many moons ago before the birth of my first child

Cold Coffee & A Stash Of Lost Dreams

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard


Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades


We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull

Unfolding Broken Dreams

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know

But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions

How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain

The Clouds Descend Upon Us

The clouds descend upon us
Stress compounding at this time of year
Getting darker as the days build
Waxing upon the fruition of fear

This world is a bloody hell
A disaster proven before the ink dries
Scorn for a distant foundation
Futility in which all hope slowly dies

The darkness returns
Looking for a story to wryly begin
Miscommunications falter
& I wade through my vermouth & gin

Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay