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_Laurie_

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Okay...I have found the book of poems and songs hubby has written to me, and I have his permission to post a few of my favorites I'd like to share with you all... :)

Yesterday is gone and here's today,

Another chance to feel your loving way.

If I were a ship floating on the sea

You would come and sail away with me.

There was a time I washed up on the shore.

My Heart and soul adrift without a moor.

And when I woke and gazed into your eyes,

I fell in love I guess, it's no surprise.

I knew you'd find a way to brighten every day,

And I will place the lock upon the door.

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okay, and this one is a song...then I'm going to bed...to much typing in one day...lol

Take the road

To the answers that aren't near

And while you've stopped to look around

Decide why you are here

Take the road

To the goals that seem so far

And when you find you've lost your way

You'll drive home in your car

Take the road

Take the road

To the dreams that passed you by

No matter how you try

It's too late, they've passed you by.

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Very nice Laurie, tell your husband "thanks for sharing".

This is the most recent song I've written.

6/2/04

The whispers of some twenty years, still ringing in my head.

The only voice that weaves through them, is the one that wants me dead.

A canticle for this fallen son, now weeping for his bed,

What little bit of hope remains, clings on just by a thread.

Ghosts of pain that I have wrought, dancing on and on inside my head.

Dirges drone on silently for a life that now seems dead.

Well I could be a carpenter, working wood with my hands?

Or maybe still a farmer who brings his fruit forth from the land?

Better yet, my fathers trade, broken down and weary back?

How to be a teacher with all the humanity that I lack?

Couldn't You please write on the wall?

Or speak to me through an ass?

This resembles a crucial hearing test,

that I fear I cannot pass.

The whispers of some thirty years, still mourning in my head.

Two voices strive to win my ear, and one of them wants me dead.

A canticle for this fallen son, now crying for his bed.

The tattered ends of hopes remains, cling on still by a thread.

Well I could be a carpenter, working wood with my hands?

Or maybe still a farmer who reaps his harvest from the land?

Better yet, my fathers trade, crippled hands and weary back?

You said to be a teacher once, but understanding still I lack.

Ghosts of pain that I have wrought, dance feverishly in my head.

Dirges droning silently for my flesh that now seems dead.

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okay..here's another untitled one...

A man has to think about

all the things he's had,

the times he has lied,

the good plans gone bad.

The friends he has turned to

The woman he loves.

The needs he has felt,

Fulfilled by her love

A man has to remember

the people he should trust

Can't trade June for December

I guess winter is a must.

A man has to realize

The state that he's in

The people he has trusted,

The places he has been.

I really like this one :P

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