Texas December

The cold bites hard this afternoon
The sun does little good
And I’ve not been out here before
I never thought I would

Out on this country road there sits
A chapel, by a lea:
Where my parents got married back
In Nineteen Fifty-Three

I have seen it in photos
Worn and aging, as time goes
And stand here in the frigid air
With light frost on my nose

And think back to a boy and girl
Much younger than my “old”:
And how the stream of life still flows
The bitter

Haute Decor

The flawless decor of the rich
Can keep their sleeping kids in style;
But all of that won’t give kids warmth
Or make the moments worth the while

That they might spend with parents who
Spend all their lives on margin’s call:
While love is riches, strange to say
Mere riches are not love
At all