Don't aim for me when I'm gone, when all there's left are memories of old songs I sung; don't aim with roses or with a gun, when all there's left are memories of the tears and fun... The birds have migrated to the West my love, each and every empty nest now boasts of only… Continue reading OLD SONGS
Month: September 2019
Disbeliever
It was on the first of January, dark grey skies, his fiftieth new year - when straight to the hospital, the family did carry, The Disbeliever, in hopes he’d recover. Hospital sounds, and smells and fear, (A contrast to the outside festivity); The wife dabbed at her wet eyes, “Oh, dear! Oh dear! Is this… Continue reading Disbeliever
