Memories, photographs, mind scenes refreshed and rewritten, edited, if you will, history redux to soothe us in the present.

The wind keeps blowing, can you sense me coming?

The sun keeps shining, can you feel my love?

The darkness still darkening the pulse inside your head. Can you remember my smile?

Lost, again, lost.

I held her hand, she shook free and walked away.

Was it something I didn’t do?

Was it something I didn’t say?

Lost fragments of an old treasure map whose treasure is the knowledge under some trees. In some garden, in Eden, or is it just me?

Snow blown cold, sand storms and raindrops keep falling on my head.

I want to speak but she is searching for something.

I want to embrace but she is holding her arms across her chest.

I need to love but I am lost on a stage filled with jest, the joke, the jokes, they are laughing at me. Can’t you hear them?

The audience ain’t fooled by the spoken words, it’s all revealed once they’ve pulled out the sword.

From my heart, from my chest, from my soul.

Do you remember my smile? I haven’t seen it in a while. Please say for me that I am not myself since it’s been gone.

A clown performs and once the tent falls, goes back into his room. In the dark, with a cot and some memories in frames.

Living life one chuckle at a time, settling for that as the laughter has been lost in flames.

Big shoes, big hats, colorful clothing to mask so much betrayal.

You show no sympathy for the devil, a clown in disguise. You simply place a coin into his cup say good luck and walk away.

Stranger mists among the strangers who walk among us. We welcome them in with open arms, love has currency as does a smile and an open window.

Guitar strings plucked, piano strings out of luck once again.

Raise a glass to family, make a toast to friendship and take a bow at the end of the play.

An actor walks away, still in makeup and costume. The lines across his face tell a different story of lives played, lives stolen, love lost and heart frozen.


Just when you think you have it hard, you see someone who has it harder than you. Life is not fair and the judge can sometimes seem asleep, gavel in hand, casting judgments like words in the dark.

See me, free me – gather them years lost and put them in a basket for a picnic.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was no rain today?

Ah, those memories, photographs captured in the clouds above us. Music playing in the distance, right by the swings and the slides. I think it’s Ricky Nelson singing about a garden party or perhaps it Don Mclean trying to stay alive.

Phone ringing in the distance, through a window, in a house just across the street. It’s ringing and ringing and the aroma of something tasty in the oven.

Memories of life’s time’s that came and went – with the touch of her hand and a kiss goodbye. On the porch of our hotel room in Cleveland, a cold evening and no moon.

We whisper goodbye and then hello again.

I’d love to sit down with you and see how life has treated you; can you make that happen?

Whispers, whispers…

Scenes from an old coffee shop in Coney Island where we used to go…too much sugar in that small cup made your tongue taste sweeter than it should have. It must have been me, must have been my fault. I had no idea, I had no clue – I still have no idea and have no clue – but I can act the part and write the lines myself.

Pull the needle from the record, we’ve heard that song too many times.

Pull the string from the ceiling and let the light turn on.

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun…