The may’s morning dew

Fathers and sons, standing side by side. United in cause, made strong with pride.
Mothers and daughters watching the distance for their return. Praying each it is not their son’s time to burn. It’s the oldest story, one of war and the return of the few. Mothers and daughters hoping each in the May’s morning dew.


Dark days roll in, casting over my shadow.
You reach for me and find only your memory.
Ingrained behavior has me walking another way
Long before your arms outstretched, reaching for something never able to be offered….
If papa was a rolling stone, you should have known,
a few close moments and I’m gone,
Still waters may well run deep, I’ve never felt still spring runoff, cascading down a rock face too steep.

“Night Revisited” Another in NYC

I embrace it as she rolls in and wraps herself around me.
The hard sun of a day too long. finally leaving me to be alone in the dusk. Soon dark.
Not knowing where I will lay my head in the early morn’ is half the fun. Maybe next to some broken bar fly, maybe on a broken curb; true devil behavior. Or perhaps in the comfort of my own bed. Waiting for the ritual to repeat itself. Night comes and I come alive, waiting for the inevitable, embracing my moment…

You just wish the trip was through

“I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real… Try to kill it all away, but i remember everything. What have i become my sweetest friend, everyone I know goes away in the end. and you could have it all, my empire of dirt, i will let you down, i will make you hurt.” Some times someone elses words say it best. “What have i become, my sweetest friend”