For BudI loved him then
I love him still
Rocks on his shoulders, wind on his sill
He told me things I dare not tell,
so I tossed them in the wishing well
along with the pain that came
when I was out of the game,
but not from his heart
I knew it
Call me intuit
So was he
He saw the light we could not see
and told me things I dare not tell,
so I tossed them in the wishing well
I think sometimes about his concerns
and how his family yearns, for him
His wisdom still,
the rocks on his shoulders, the wind on his sill
So forever and often when I think of him,
and what I lost - I toss
What I’ve always known
that in his soul he loves me too
with rocks on his shoulders, wind on his sill,
in the wishing well
I love you, Bud.
Linda
LDN
I love the chorus in this poem:
ReplyDelete"Rocks on his shoulders
Wind on his sill"
It gives me the image of this man, burdened by life, just taking off in a corvette or some other kind of muscle car - the wind whipping up through the sill of the door. Ahhh, freedom.
He collected cars - after he passed, they were auctioned - a HUGE ONE - like him.
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