Holmes Jim

I dream about those carefree times,
Of playful days, when in my prime,
I tried my hand at romantic flings,
Didn't much care about serious things,
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I look away when I'm afraid,
Turn the cheek when I'm betrayed,
I hold it in when anger swells,
Trapped inside my self-imposed hell,
...

I loved to fish with my Uncle Jack,
For finding fish, he had the knack,
A passion in common, we both shared alike,
To find that place where fish might strike,
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A little boy that smiled,
Made my day today,
A friendly little child,
I really have to say,
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If I was a poet I'd write from the heart,
Expelling my feelings, both sorrows and joys,
With a stroke of my pen like a fine piece of art,
I'd sketch out my thoughts for all to enjoy,
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I put afloat on Kingscote Lake,
And glided through the gentle wake,
Carried forth by my trusty oar,
To search for camp on it's western shore,
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I love my wiener dogs,
Adorable little hotdogs,
Jesse is three months older,
But Checkers is so much bolder,
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I dreamed a dream of simple things,
Of times gone bye, my younger years,
I played the games of heroic kings,
Heard the chants of playful cheers,
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I use to think that I could fly,
Far across the open sky,
Up above the buildings tops,
Past the fields laced with crops,
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A song will play and spur me on,
And pull me back to a past long gone,
I listen closely as words rush by,
Lost in thoughts of times gone bye,
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I visit places I haven't known,
Crossing borders as I roam,
Pursuing instincts from within,
Beyond the fences that hold men in,
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If I've planned it, is not designed?
If I've held it, is it not confined?
If I've believed it, is it not true?
If I've borrowed it, is it not due?
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Trust in yourself, right from the start,
Pursue those ambitions, you've dreamed about,
Stay true to yourself and follow your heart,
Place faith in your choices and sweep away doubt,
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One late day in May, he took to the woods,
On a solo adventure close to his heart,
A seven-day trek, just to see if he could,
Hike the La Coche Trail in Killarney Park,
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Up, before the sun I rose,
To wander peaceful campground roads,
I walked among the fireflies,
And marvelled at the star filled sky,
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Out for a ride upon my favorite lake,
Crossing its length, at a leisurely gait,
Paddling with purpose, steadily and slow,
Feeling the solitude, the further I row,
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Under pretense of bugle calls,
We march to battle in deadly brawls,
Spilling blood, we can't afford,
Hatred reigns, when truces ignored,
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In my quiet peaceful shop,
I forge pedals for a flower's top,
Copper trimmed with trusty shears,
Skills borrowed from a past career,
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I enter the swift at river right,
Pulled along in morning light,
Left full draw around a rock,
Slipping by with a gentle knock,
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Said my good-byes and grabbed my pack,
I couldn't say, when I would be back,
Out on a hike to where wild things, roam,
Under the stars, and miles from home,
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