Poetry Is A Search For Syllables To

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.

And Even Now She Beats Her Head Against The Bars In The Same Old Way And Wonders If There Is A Bigger Place The Railroads Run To From Chicago Where Maybe There Is Romance And Big Things And Real Dreams That Never Go Smash.

Gather The Stars If You Wish It So Gather The Songs And Keep Them. Gather The Faces Of Women. Gather For Keeping Years And Years. And Then... Loosen Your Hands, Let Go And Say Good-bye. Let The Stars And Songs Go. Let The Faces And Years Go. Loosen Your Hands And Say Good-bye.

Time Is The Coin Of Life. Only You Can Determine How It Will Be Spent.

A Tree Is Best Measured When It Is Down - And So It Is With People.