He loves to walk inside his old house when everyone’s asleep

When the world around is so quiet you cannot hear a peep.


For in the quietude of slumber when the bats and fireflies thrive

is the time within the walls of his old house when memories come alive.


Memories of laughter and tears echo off the walls

Memories of his children and grandchildren echo down the halls.


Sometimes he stops to listen…sometimes…to different rooms he’s drawn

as he marvels at his old house…where his world has come and gone.


Today as he takes his final walk…

his children are grown…

his wife is gone

He packs up every memory…he knows it’s time for moving on.


He will take his memories with him but he knows some will linger in these walls

which he will gladly share with the new owners when another nighttime falls.


And he hopes as these new owners walk these halls when everyone’s asleep

when the world around is so quiet you cannot hear a peep


That he or she will stop and listen…smile…and be so kind


as to allow the new memories they are making to mix with those he leaves behind.

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We were children of the ‘60s…we were hippies in our souls.

Our hair came to our shoulders…and we lived on rock and roll.


Today we do our rolling in the mountains …

where we listen to the trees…and take long walks

where we think about our life together…and paint messages on rocks.


It’s a tradition at our cabin…anyone who’s ever come her and reclined:

You can paint a rock and take it with you…but, please, leave one behind.


And that’s what’s happened over the years…rocks for all to see…

filling up our cabin……left behind by friends and family.


Yesterday the sun was shining…we were cooled by a mountain breeze

when we stopped to look at all our rocks…and relive old memories.


It’s a wonderful phenomenon… 

how in an instant…a moment and a memory are ignited…

and how…in another instant…

the two are reunited.


Now we’re in our 60’s… we’re still hippies in our souls…

and though our hair is a little shorter…we still love old rock and roll.


And we never dreamed we’d be this lucky…

listening to the trees…taking long walks…

And rolling out old memories…


in a bunch of painted rocks.

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