My thoughts drift through the smoke of years

That seems to lately hang o'er my mind

Wisps of memories both good and bad

Ther's even more then one I cannot find

Like the long hair that I once treasured

That now only grow out of my ears

Things have a way of dissappearing

It seems all except those troubling fears

Here typing brilliant thoughts at my keyboard

At least that's what I tell myself each day

Truth be told they're just rambling thoughts

Mix and matched in a muti-mattered way

I am not complaining I'm better off then most

with these words and some of my brain intact

I have loyal friends that read the things I write

So I don't feel like just one more writer's hack.