When I was a lad of three,
I never thought about what I'd see
When I reached the age of eighty-three.
For if I knew, I'd have lived this long,
I would have sung a different song.

You that plumb, the depths of decency,
Are behaving badly, far too frequently.

May I touch your hand, to remember,
How our love, has endured?
Can I hug and hold you,
Until I am, re-assured,
That you won't suddenly leave,
When I am not fully cured?

These days of ours, are so uncertain,
I pray there won't be a final curtain.
Why is that, you may ask, today?
It's because I'm not ready, to go away.

The serenity of our life, is still
That time, that is so tranquil.
Must we succumb, to those, gone before,
That left this life, through open door?
I know not what words to say,
Then to praise God, on this day.

I care not, of what you say.
I care not, of what you do.
My only care, on this Fall day,
Is to keep, taking care of you.

There are some people, I don't like.
There are some people, I'll never be.
There are some people, who always lie.
There are some people, that I trust.
There are some people, more like me.

I sit, I wait, I pontificate,
About those things, that will never be.
For all the ills and pain, in this world,
That has it's, manifest of hate
Of religion and race, different than ours,
With the wants of others, not our concern
And only our selfish interest, is there,
Not the love for others. Caring not,
What your personal beliefs are.
That's up to you, to pass the test
Of how you've led your life, best.
While we must, all develop our own
Understanding of our lives, special meaning
And care for one another and achieving,
The respect for the life of each other,
Brothers and sisters of a different mother.

With sunny days and nights of cold,
The change, creating more colors of gold,
Reds, orange and many shades of brown.
Fall winds, shake trees; leaf's fall down.
A beautiful time, in the Great Northwest,
When plants and trees, get to rest.

A stake through the heart,
Is how I feel.
I can't believe, this part
Of life, being so surreal.
This hurt, that I see,
That we can't heal;
Your loss of memory.