I often find myself still and quiet in the dark early, hours of dawn; my thoughts roll on like a gentle swaying train, pushing scenes of love and times, well and ill spent. Near life experiences. Charmed, it's titled, life, the pallid light of memoirs spun to praise tunes. A confessional of “a sinner saved by grace”, spinning a thread of hope to hold the tattered remains of this old man.
“My hope is built on nothing less…” Cut and scarred for life, wrung out and being laid by, the greying years a pale indigo of a new dawn sky. Hello sunshine, “Hello Darlin…”
