On the fourth week
Of every other sun-down
A list of them have passed
Some who have yet to stood down..

Stood in March
Ready to carry life’s convincing ever-last
Strife and where
only those who once where young
Fought against an angry sons, sum

Rest now in, class of all
We did our best, to make things better last
We did things then, to better last

Yet make no mistake
What we didn’t then
Left restless thoughts and ideas
Struck within
Hollow hopes of new times all
And ideals
Where all of us, were best of all
Where all of us were better all

And as I succeed in life’s appointments.

May I lay too, in the midst of disappointments?

Watching my rain bore solemn rows
Of forgotten lasts
Held as if sand filtered through the plane of times,
Toes.

I should rest

While my blistering Sun spears

Clouds, melting mists

Of royal doubts and tears
And only then

And until lasts I know

Of troubled hands, of wreck time

Wrestling the grip of love mind

From weak hands, and hard minds
I ask only then

If you and they wake one day,

Lonely

Please best yet

Make it your best set today

For tomorrow is only,

A promise made, often broken

My wish
For friends
of mine still here
And those I’ve known
Who left for places
Of mighty blue

I wish for you
A chair in the breeze
Of a temperate ocean
In midnight’s dream

I wish for you
The beat of the gentle drum
Of an oceans crashing
Wave
Foaming around ankles
Bruised, not beaten
Among

I wish for you
Calm, times two
And sea-spray to
Wash tears away
Spent on the young

I wish for you
Silky cool sand
to bury the heat
of well-worn feet
Roughed of a days angry beat

And last, I wish
No time spent
Wasted on laments and regrets

So where am I?
A champion measured to the sky
And you too
Mired in time, of forgotten souls fool

And when we danced
Or parted ways
Did I misspeak?
Did I say, nay?

Or were my fervent words
Lost among the chorus of birds
That sang and sang
What will be done, what will be done, dame?

No my friend
Let’s both look
To an evening’s sun
When it’s time I feel
To say all I could do is won
Yet only I know
Twas not then, before an evening’s sun

Only rich landscapes of precious time’s words
Where love and respect merged into one’s life’s curves side
And time, and space, and holy grace
May I be with the few souls?
Who have passed through this space?
And all walls of time, reckless and divine. Are surely yours and mostly mine!
And what is the time
For me to rest my mind, and let light from above thread it’s way
Through a simple one’s head

And what is the time
For me to die
As I lay in fields not of clay
But of clover and fragrance
Of soft and gentle places
I only ask
That you or they
Remember this day
And regard me as such
With that of heavens
Gentle touch