When I go rolling on my skateboard,
I feel the wind blow on my face.
My body glides along in freedom,
And then my foot keeps up the pace.
He gets up in the morning
And goes out the door,
Jumps onto his board
And skates to the store.
Babbling brook still runs
Beneath the blanket of snow.
Waters of life flow.
As far as we can see,
The fields snow-covered be.
The wind picks up a load,
Blows snow drifts 'cross the road.
Bending down to get their glove,
Not thinking of yourself...above.
Giving those who need...a ride;
To rhyme or not to rhyme
Is not the question.
Neither is it based on
Facts or on fiction.
Amid Blue Ridge Mountains with
Family, friends, and
Senator John S. McCain....
I would like to see my Father again,
And have him help recall those memories
Of when he would sit down and sing to me,
Tell me tales enough to fill diaries.