Why do we abuse our bodies,
when we are young,
with alcohol, cigarettes, drugs,
and eating too much food?
...
I read a poem the other day,
of how we should look at the inner person.
Not at the way, that person looks or dresses,
nor the texture and colour of their skin,
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Of all the roads I’ve travelled,
the worst one was losing you.
Now I’d trade of all my tomorrows,
for just one of those yesterdays.
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Tomorrow is a fleeting dream
that love came sometimes float with there.
Especially for two people
who want to care for someone.
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There are times when we wander;
we are filled with anger, hate and despair.
Then we hear a voice from the wilderness,
beckoning us to come there.
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To a good friend in hope that they will listen.
Sometimes we neglect to say things
to the people who really care.
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A cowbell sounds for milking time,
a milkmaid on her three-legged stool,
remembering all the time that golden rule.
Never get behind a cows rear leg
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As we get older time races by,
years seem like weeks,
weeks melt into days,
and soon they are gone
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A soldier lay dying
on a battlefield
the enemy advance
they are younger than he.
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How many times have I heard it said,
especially by ladies out there.
They see someone with happiness
and wish they had a share
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