Conversations….. 

October 15th, 1994

“Threads, thread, needle and thread,
Where’s that idea I’d left in my head?
I hope you don’t mind it, but I couldn’t find it,
So why don’t we just start over instead?”

“Fine, fine, that would be fine,
‘Long’s we remember the ones that were mine,
Otherwise, often and likely as not,
Mine are the threads most often forgot.”

“Sure, of course, whatever you say.
I understand you could feel that way.
I’m not regretting what we’re forgetting,
As long as you tell me: What did we say?”

by

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Shoes………..

October 24th 1994

Sometimes the things that give us the blues
We leave in our closets, our history, like shoes.
We see an old comfort, now worn but still fitting.
Almost unnoticed, but there they are, sitting.

Of them we rid ourselves slowly, no fanfare,
Recalling the best, a new and matched pair.
The roads that they took to wear them that way,
We paved ourselves, by designing each day.

So when we’re on new roads, impassable now,
And know that our old shoes made it somehow,
Why do we look back on old roads and stop,
Waiting for that old pair’s mate to drop.

We can go on without knowing the way,
Our old shoes of tomorrow will guide us today.
We love them and keep them, those weary old shoes,
But their comfort keeps waning; they are after all, blues.

They’ll probably never wear out where they are,
We often don’t look in our hearts that far.
But someone can give us a brand new pair,
And never resign us to looking in there.

Some people do this, for love and the chance,
To make old shoes new ones that still want to dance.
And never allowing their pair mate to drop,
On down the new road, unable to stop.

See ya