We dined on tea and oranges.

On the sand down by the sea.

There were possible storm warnings.

That escaped both you and me.

The dingy left the harbor.

The sail snapped by noon.

The winds grew dark and heavy.

Under far too soon, typhoon.

They’ll be no more tea and oranges.

Or walks down at the park.

The dreamers dream is heavy now.

And faint hopes are growing dark.

The Ancients started singing.

In an unfamiliar key.

The Stoners started dancing.

And staring at just me.

The Republicans they were drowning.

Outside the Democratic waves.

The Angel’s started humming.

Just some notes from Jesus’ saves.

A voice spoke said, “You’re dreaming.”

I screamed, “Please go away.”

They kept shaking in the evening.

Through the night and brand new day.

Now, the Ancients are together.

They are smiling like they knew.

Like they’ve known about forever.

And a different shade of blue.

They spoke, “Just keep on going.”

And I drifted deep in song.

Until I woke to someone crying.

I guess I had been away too long.

We were dreaming of a future.

Where something better came along.

When we could guide the children.

Where we could be that strong.

We were dreaming of a future.

And the future it is here.

And we are all so happy now.

There was so much crap to clear.

We were up against those forces.

In a post Thanos multiverse.

All the heroes, they now know.

To carry makeup in their purse.

Now that that’s been settled.

No more God or faith no more.

Our leaders are busy leading.

No more questions or out the door.

There is something in the water.

In the air like flakes of snow.

Take the narrow to the broader.

I’m just learning letting go.

You are cold, and you are distant.

It’s all tell now and no show.

If I were just more consistent.

I could teach this letting go.

There’s a moral to this story.

Builds a plot like mold will grow.

There’s no need to say you’re sorry.

You taught me well this letting go.

I am cold and I am distant.

I’m all tell now and no show.

You teach well, so persistent.

Such a gift this letting go.

We were taught about this love.

From those who never knew.

They had heard the stories of.

From the dreamers and the few.

These survivors of those wars.

Who heard this from above.

To teach in words and metaphors.

To live, lie, and say I love.

I’ve heard them speaking of.

Just not certain or so sure.

I said I don’t believe in love.

So altruistic and so pure.

The cold brought frost.

The earth is frozen now.

The crowds dwindled.

Some dared to venture past steamed glass.

Only those with awkward footwear…

Found anything resembling comfort.

For nothing else will do here.

Cold Arctic air sweeps south over hard frozen tundra, raising hairs on hunched backs…

It got cold here first of December.

And all the crazy got fresh leased.

The cops got called at Timothy’s.

What will be the first of many…

It’s either famine, fast, or feast.

I really liked last November.

Finally got married for just a song.

We were humming some were smiling.

What will be the first of many.

Just don’t keep it up too long.

Christmas, New Years Twenty Twenty Five.

And all that happy sure will fade.

I’ve learned to harbor expectations.

In what will be the last of many.

Not all songs wrote and played.