I knew the song well,
well before I saw it,
saw the title, first,
carved deep
in an old wood school desk
in the gable room
of my historic fachwerk church
in the heart of Cream City.
Each time
through the decades,
I heard about
the desert that had turned to sea,
I thought of that pen-rutted,
scarred wood,
revelation writing,
hinged desk top.
Will that still be
my embedded memory
now that I’ve seen,
second,
decades later,
in the desert,
the no-named
equine tribute
live?
There are those moments /
when you beg to dance, and the/
whole world laughs at you.
Growing up is when/
you learn: You can be happy/
because your kids are.
I am not too old/
to rock and roll. It’s sad that/
my children think so.
Your life and light shine./
You’ve already started to/
change the world. Keep on!
When the happy guy/
gets sick, he discovers that/
the world keeps spinning.
Or
the world keeps turning.
The more folks tell me/
I shouldn’t be some way, the/
more I want to leave.
If you missed going/
but then go more than planned, does/
that make up for it?
There are times when God’s/
world is so wonderful that /
you* can say nothing.
OR
*I can say nothing.
She reeled him in/
with her smile,/
as though made just for him:/
Beautiful, without guile.
She then (sadly) made him wait
as she nodded sleepily.
He could only anticipate
and try not to do so creepily.
Her smile and her profile
made him seek more.
He’d wait awhile;
what was he looking for?
But then she announced he could not be her mate.
His dreams she trounced: “Like Cinderella, it’s too late!”