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In the jungle of the everyman,

an oasis waits

to still away the fairest mind

to quell the pain of yesteryear,

with rhythm’s ribbon evermore,

the truest feet, the cellar door,

that leads the broken man away from weary

and to the sweet unknowns 

with his ‘sticks’ a swinging

and a slinging for the ‘we’ in all of us 



The eddy of the drummer man folds the lines

o’er golden eras

to lead the way in beauty’s measure

in the honor row that holds the line

a man to treasure every era,

the quiet warrior on the line,

that towers over rivers time…

coke bottles 


cracker jacks

sticky sweet treats


sparkling glass


childhood pleasures

simple and free

barefoot Sundays

sipping iced tea


skipping and jumping

on hot summer days

the late afternoons

for making up plays


as daylight fades

and darkness falls

I snuggle in bed

remembering it all 

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