Sorting through my things

See what I can find

Picking through the past

See what's left behind

Multi-colored sweaters

That moths have eaten holes

A paire of breaded mocassins with worn out soles

Boots were made for walking

Winds were blowing change

Boys fall in the jungle

As I Came of Age

Black and white TV

With a broken 12 - inch screen

Dylan's highway 61

And Jackie's love machine

I reread your letters and again

I cry great tears

Light comes to the surface

Even after all these years