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The room was quiet.
A voice of mute.
She smiled, her eyes,
so very cute.

As a young man,
with more fantasies
than one should,
in the Eyes of God.

The dog, the food,
the creek I'd wade,
were perfect then,
in the life I made.

Youthful times,
imagination yours,
alone again,
but know chores.

I wild time
in those days gone bye,
when memories fade,
like apple pie.

A car lover,
I still am.
From my youth,
to now when it will end.

I'm going to
stop driving a car.
Won't like it, but
that is the bar.

A kindred moment,
as friends depart,
with long goodbyes,
doing their part,

to assure we all,
will meet again,
be it sunshine,
or a falling rain.

Hope to see
you next year,
if God is willing,
and you buy the beer.

Riding a dappled pone,
we called "Old Paint".
A gentle animal,
naw, I'd say she ain't.

Wide across,
to spread your legs,
she would do what she wanted,
on those, bony, spindly legs

Cold, sharp the pain,
down through my legs.
A nerve disorder,
as if walking on eggs.

Radiant pain into,
my shins, ankles and feet.
My gosh, this,
wasn't a treat.

Age has a way of,
making us more visually
appealing when your eyes,
start to fail.

Did you hear the one about…

Fermented fruit,
into a swill,
distilling the alcohol,
using a still.

It's wonderful,
how our minds work,
to procure an alcohol product,
into a wonderful perk.

Booze at the moment,
I'm drinking my fill.
If it is there,
you know I will.

Unfettered,
Un reigned,
can you control,
Natures rain.

I'm not a young man,
at least not anymore,
so why do I feel,
I could get on a dance floor?

To dance away,
all of my sins,
to determine,
who loses or wins.

So I'll go to the floor,
with cane or walker in hand,
and show the World,
I can still dance with the best of them.