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Ottawa train



A dream later I was alone
Many things to say but no one to phone
Inevitable solitude while
I search for a place to call home
This road is long
And I must be strong

Travelling through the hail and snow
It’s a cold November and I must stay warm
Familiar places, familiar faces
Souvenirs from a time gone by
This road is long
and I must be strong

Many nights I think of you
Sweet memories that were meant for two
I can’t erase the past
I need forgiveness to rebuild my path
This road is long
And I must be strong
I’ll keep travelling til my heart is home
Dream of tomorrows
And sunny days to come
This road is long
And I must be strong
The road is long
And I must stay strong


Take care

When the world is your playground
But you never go out to play
Life just passes you by
And you never learn your way.

I wish I could teach you a few things
But I’m not allowed to stay
I’ve got a dream to fulfill
And a life to mend
But I hope you’ll be okay.

Sometimes the world is your window
But you never look out to see
Your dream is playing out there
And I wish you could share it with me.

You sit in your room so sadly
And you don’t let anyone in
Always and forever so lonely
Please come share that life within

Now I wish I could teach you a few things
But you never allow me to stay
I’ve got a dream to mend
And a life to fulfill
But I hope you’ll be okay.


Spring morning

In the beginning…poetry

A few weeks ago, I rediscovered one of my favorite movies, Times Square (1980). I was in my early pre teens when I saw it…I’d say around 12 years old. There’s a poem that one of the character writes:

“Tiny fossil bones
Translucent skin
Million year old eyes
Dinosaur, you don’t belong here
They’ll kill you for your tiny tusks
But, your ribs are my ladder Nicki
I’m so amazed, I’m so amazed.”

That was the first time that poetry meant something to me. I remember writing my first poem. It was quite the production really. I took a lawn chair…remember the ones made of plastic tubing…lol…and set out to sit in the woods in front of my house. I had this tiny diary. The cover was a blue paisley print. I didn’t keep the poem. I think I wrote about the trees, clouds, not quite sure. Regardless, I’ve been writing poetry since, and this time, kept them!