This is My Mom and Dad

.. there’s a story in how they’re looking …

This is My Mom and Dad

This is my mom and dad
About ten years before my birth;
Where it was taken I do not know
I think somewhere on earth

But there’s a story in how they’re looking
Each at one another;
And somewhere within that look there came
A father and a mother

To three little children, a girl and two boys
As different as dawn, night and noon:
They, of course, did not know all this back then
But they would find out soon

They traveled the world with their children in tow
As each one came along;
From high mountain peaks and the valleys below
With sorrow and with song

Just one other family, I guess, to those
Whose god is “society”:
Obscure and unknown to a fame-obsessed world
But everything
To me

Christmas on the Beach

“The pure white of the Destin sand…”

If I was “Home for Christmas”, a
“White Christmas” it would be:
The pure white of the Destin sand
Beside the emerald sea

The crowded summer beaches
I don’t miss, even a tad:
But empty, there at Christmastime?
I miss that
Pretty bad

The Varsity

A vital part of the Atlanta scene.

The year that my father was born
The Varsity got its start;
And eighty-six years later
It is still a vital part

Of the Atlanta scene – the largest
Drive-in anywhere.
You should stop in and try it
If you happen to be there

It’s strange to think throughout the lives
Of my father and me
That place has stood there all this time
A drive-in redwood tree

3:22 AM

She can’t get to sleep.

It is 3:22 AM
And she can’t get to sleep:
So she goes to her kitchen
Where, all boxed up in a heap

The Christmas decorations are
That she has long accrued.
She hasn’t even opened them,
She’s not been in the mood.

Deciding, she then opens one
There’s a toy village there:
She puts together all its parts
With noticeable care.

Or, it would be noticed, if
She wasn’t there alone.
This village has been hers since, oh
Before her kids were grown

Or even out of high school;
But, that was some years ago.
She looks at all the tiny lights,
The people, and fake snow —

Remembering the magic of
A world transformed by light:
The music of a heart
That didn’t lie awake at night.

And when the morning came
The house was festive, stem to stern;
Her husband looked at her in wonder
Then with slight concern

“When did you… why do all this?
I would have helped you know.”
“I know,” she told him simply
And then took his hand to show

The people in the village there
Amidst the Christmas lights:
Who still believe and understand
It’s not
Like other


My parents both were singers.

My parents both were singers,
Taught us each to sing a part;
We would go out at Christmas and
Would carol folks by heart

I didn’t mind it very much
Out in the frost and rime:
I usually was rather shy
But not at Christmastime

When light and music filled the air –
The sound comes back to me –
There’s still no gift more special than
To sing
In harmony

The World of Coca-Cola

Memories of their grandfather…

Their grandfather, he worked for Coke
And he had a selection
Of Coke memorabilia that
Became his prize collection

Of red and white with green bottles
Of merry Santa Claus;
Which, seeing now, reminds themĀ of
The childhood world
That was


First Love’s Memory

We wandered down a hill to find a secret place I knew…

We wandered down a hill to find
A secret place I knew;
There was a picnic waiting
And a beautiful lake view

Picnic 1

She was surprised to see it all —
Delighted, nonetheless;
And I – well, I adored her
I must honestly confess

Picnic 2

And she sat on my lap
As we enjoyed the glittering lake;
With fruit to eat and wine to drink
Our daytime thirsts to slake

Picnic 3

And in my arms, down to
The waterside we did transfer;
If ever any boy loved girl
Then truth knows I loved her

Picnic 4

Into the water soon we went
The two of us got wet:
And how it felt to kiss her
Is a thing I won’t forget

Picnic 5

And passion flowed like water
On an endless smiling sea;
And soon engulfed the two of us
My true young love and me

Picnic 6

I recall as we dried that she
Had flowers in her hair;
And though the day was long ago
It’s like I still was there

For that first love, that comes but once
Can fade like summer flowers:
But this one memory we share
It is

Picnic 7