Madman or saint?

On paper, with good pen and good song.

I remember silky voice, pale skin and the most beautiful face I ever seen.

We prayed and we starved for love in the Spring of my life.

Now the Winter of my life is here and I whispered to the night.

We were almost lovers.

—Lets us drink and sport today. Ours is not to-morrow. Love with youth flies swift away, Age is naught but sorrow,

Dance and sing, time’s on the wing. Life never knows the return of Spring.—-John Gay 1685-1732″

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I was a madman or a saint?

In my youth I digest like with a unforgiving hunger.

Wanted everything and I held on to nothing.

I learn men who took a silent stand against war and hate,

believed in little.

Just ghost upon the kind earth.

I whispered to Lake St. Clair,

maybe time for the Gypsy man to  do some good.

Maybe I will burn some sage and pray for my world to heal.

Scribble some words for peace and salvation for my world.

                             Dancing Coyote