In the world there many turns for good, most are just for living, as i matured many a old friend was left behind, example was not a good one for children and family. i still loved them dearly, how can you not love who you once were. I hope you enjoy, this is a bit long..

Author Note: This a fiction of a number of people I once new, all were friends from my childhood. I am the last alive.


Little children sing along
with cowboy tunes
just like when I was young
we rode broomstick horses

covered the plains
chasing after the sun
children and loving
fall together in the autumn
keep the brandy in special spot
under the steps
saved for Sunday company

Daddy would ride into town
just for the show
Mommy would kiss us good night
put on the radio
old Hank would sing us a lullaby
just for the lost roughneck

sleight of hand
would guide me
to the spot on the floor
I'd sing like
a pint-sized troubadour

momma would laugh
she let me stay next to her
rocking in that old chair

I walked into the room
ripped the army green
top to bottom
sat on my bed and cried
I was a man who learned
to live while others died

reputation grew
for a tavern driven fool
who crawled
in the bottle

real world finds
listening to the music
that comforts our soul
line from horses made of wood
to girls trying to find
your soul
is fine

child to adult
we all like to find
roots and play
for the band

Blooded hands
made from hard heads
and soft walls
stuck to fresh sheets

direction changed
by the those who know
the difference between
the good stuff

gathered up the fool
moved to the right side
of the tracks to save a few

momma put up with a drinking daddy
now her son decided to turn it around
fast cars and show in glow
to make it down
the new road of College walls

I remember broom stick horses
when life was as simple as waking up

Step back count your blessings
sing to your children make believe
leaves the wonder of a new world
far behind but a new and better life

tall and straight I walk
setting the example,
burning bridges all gone
no one left to know
of broomstick horses
death dealt, freedom given

Bottle long ago broken
cars sold for
computer games, respectable

Still a bit of me is left
on the road
looking for where I have been
where I have gone
Giddy up old paint
one more ride