Granddad isn’t doing much these days, he rarely does a thing
He seems unlike his old self, quiet, maybe Reminiscing.
I hope he’s gently rocking peaceful in an old chair by the fire
he’s probably climbing mountains or recalling old desire
He’s been and done most everything and everywhere, and how.
hope he’s happy and contented to be re-living it all now.
He might be on a troopship, battling a crazy storm
could be fighting game fish on Queensland’s Capricorn.
Nothing that he ever did was ‘one time event that passed ‘
while legs get frail and pulse is week. His memories have last.
He told me once not long ago. ‘My memories on its knees
I still recall Just everything. . just not where I left my keys.
Getting married is like buying a shiny brand new car
you can floor the throttle pedal, spin the wheels,
Polish it, or buff it up, feel like a movie star.
We can even let the top down, whatever dream appeals.
The whining from the gearbox, never evident when new
with batteries that spark it into life each time with extra surge
It is exiting just to know it’s there, even when its out of view
This brand new acquisition excites and thrills each urge.
But time removes the sheen, and the speedo‘s, winding on
the constant clunk of changing gears, the heater fails to work
New models in the showroom, ‘Oooh that one looks like fun’
The old one to the garage, placed with the gears in “park”
Said the wisest of all creatures and cleverness the owl
“I am invented some new colors that none of you can see.”.
The rabbit asked “does it look quite pretty? … can we see it now.?”
“I doubt it very much”, said Owl “your not intelligent like me“.
The Owl preened out his feathers and proudly puffed his chest.
with Rabbit, looking at intelligence upon the highest limb.
“Tell me lowly Rabbit, what it is you see, when looking at the best”
“I see a crazy bird, who doesn’t understand a single bloody thing”.
I heard it said that “Henry, never had a chance.”
So I pondered where it went.
Did it simply fade into the distance?
Then, how does one prevent
The hopelessness of circumstance
and loss without intent.
Sometimes it’s gone, without a second Glance.
It is easier following footsteps when the toe prints at the front.
Unless you’re quite adept at going backwards, but I’m not.
Backward facing footprints always head to where they’ve been
I could have even travelled there. Maybe I just forgot.
I doubt that I will ever pace a path that’s not been trod before
And If ever get there I will surely be surprised.
I might just take a pile of wood and tools to build a door.
Then lock the thing behind me, Locked in my own demise.
But knowing how I travel, I will probably lose the key.
And lock myself in somewhere nobody else will ever go.
Then maybe I will realize the stupidity that’s me.
Then likely lose myself to death, and no one else will know.
Bugger, Bugger everything, I am staying on the Highway.
I have never known quite where I am, plus I’m regularly Lost.
I’m better suited more to never doing things my own way.
I’m a ‘go in circles’ type of guy, but I can’t afford the cost.
I do believed in Aliens a fact I can’t resist
I truly have encountered them,
have proof that they exist.
I meet them now and then.
They are from a different planet
Strange world I’ve never dreamed
I don’t know if their harmless and it
scares me . . . Close to screams .
Identifying aliens, as tricky it might seem
Simply put, these creatures look like us
a few years past . The way we used to ‘been.’
They will inherit all there is. No point to make a fuss.
Key ( Our Children will take over the world)
I’ve not completely lost the plot.
some ‘plots’ are getting harder
us older blokes lose plots a lot.
and find we’re lacking ardour.
Long legged girl with sexy ass
Don’t bother me no more
But Early Mustangs driving past
Find me sneak peeking out my door.