here i sit afraid i`ll rot
I beg of you to tell me not
I don`t want to rot
my brain to stop
my heart to drop
so i beg of you to tell me not
you will not rot
brain won`t stop
your heart won`t drop
so here I am to tell you not

1-30-08 bad day wife had been in hospital for abt. a week when these words come to me.

If your love is true
you can make it through

1-30-08
Thank you very much Marye ..

Drops fall softly
While the notes flow through our ears
We keep on dancing
Our fingers draw the music
Patterns in the air
Our feet mimic the rhythm
Drums on the grass
My neighbor smiles at me
As a rainbow appears over the stage
The melody changes
Sunshine daydream
We are still dancing
Twirling our own rainbow
Along the moon-path

Is one I wrote many years ago, after a show at Alpine Valley, so should be appropriate here. Is one of the few that was not written in a depressed frenzy.
**********************************
Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you will still exist, but you have ceased to live.
Samuel Clemens

I am so excited about this new topic. Stuman is my hero. Thanks you guys for the great words. I love it.

your soft hair on my pillow
your sweet smell in the morning
I watch you sleep

The Weather Channel said "Cold Front"
"Last one of the year? its Loop Road time!"
We cancelled our Palm Pilot schedules and drove
West of South Beach, towering glass condos, clubs with velevt fences, west of Little Havana and men still fighting on the Bay of Pigs
on Tamiami Trail
The 4 lane road to the Gulf od Mexico
You turn at the little sign before 40 Mile Bend
drive past the Miccosukee mansions built with gaming money
Roadtrips 79 on with Sirius GD ready to fill in if needed.
Its cold for Miami
No clouds no humidity
Toklas's formula has kicked in gently and sweetly
Oak trees bent with blooming tislandia shooting red and purple spikes towards the cold blue sky
A group of snowy egrets stalk misquito fish in dark water dyed brown red by cypress tannin.
The Loop is busy many rangers and scientists and others appreciating a cold day
its quiet no jets or cars or verizon we sit outside watching cold gators float in the shallow
river.
Terrapin begins we sing softly aching always for Jerry and Brent
There is a tunnel of pidgeon plums and mastics drooped over the stream like a covered bridge the wind whips the pine island ridge we have reached the end and its time for a double decker pork sandwhich at the Pit BarBQ and cell service.
Damn.

And the road goes on forever....
BobbaLee