Praise the man

Praise the man who sees himself,

he who learnt between the lines,

and understood to draw on books.

 

Praise the woman who knows herself,

who sees through the lies,

despite attempts to prove her otherwise.

 

Love those who walk in the rain,

bothered not by the slightest stain,

and leave luxuries behind.

 

Bless those who know their way,

around the world in search,

of only the search itself.

 

Love – hail, rain or shine!

Despite the pain,

leave hate behind.

 

Praise she who sees herself,

in all attempts otherwise,

to see through the lies.

 

Praise he who finds himself,

who learns to understand,

and draw lines in sand.

 

What is old is new again

What is old,
is new again;
like our love,
that years ago began.

Now blossomed,
and matured;
we came through all four seasons,
back to where we first sang.

Older,
but none the wiser;
in youth we knew it all,
come of age and we’re not so sure.

Romance fades,
when hope drifts;
we loose sight,
when we take flight.

The hours,
tick slowly by;
come home,
and quickly the years pass by.

We wear our coats,
in summer;
and lay in bed,
as if it were dark.

It’s time to leave,
and heal the pain;
we can live our lives,
for everything old is new again.