The Revelry Of Bad Times

“A letter to a very young friend”
Dear Zeb,
The bad times they a-turning now
Like in the good old days of yore
Days free from deceit
Replete with the revelry of joy in my feet
Makes me be laughingly sweet
No need to be crying
To a neighbor lady down the street
How’d in the name of God,
You and yours, and me
To all around our town
Ever able to bring this virus down
Somehow managed, brought back
All people brightly bristling
While neighbors shared coffee
And sinfully fattening doughnuts
Sugaring, glistening
The bad games are almost over now
Remember how it was
Walking together in the sun
Take what’s left, my boy
It’s about done…
Strength! …We’ll need it again
Not time to be still…
So much work for all of us
The magic of each American’s soul
Remains strong… stalwart…
Forged with freedoms glow…
For all who have wept…
A sweet backdrop of light
Yours Forever
In the sun
Please say hello to anyone who knows me.
Your older friend,
…and sorry for the ‘kinds of writing I do.
        …And one more thing, perhaps with meaning. And if not, I’ll understand ’cause it’s what some of us when needed due, do for others as if the case was to benefit family, friends, and fellow Americans at large.
Lest it may be misunderstood:
        Zeb, the kid I sometimes address my letters to, was a symbolic little kid who existed in every American generation as it was when it was ever-changing as it grew. We all had the innermost feelings we would experience a handsome degree of success, largely because history reflected justly; American dreams were always possible.
Zeb’s Dreams Scribbled
My eyes are closed
Yet I don’t rest
Sleep never comes easily
When so many around me
Family, some friends
Those merely being acquaintances
I worry ‘bout tomorrow
First day of school, again
My nickers are threadbare
My friends are going to laugh, I think
Better day than yesterday
Or the day before
My nose stopped running
That damn cough seems to be gone
I’m sure glad its summer again
Everybody, all happy again
I love our new house
You know, I still miss the farm
Never thought about making it all the way
I’ll put my dreaming away for another day
Couldn’t imagine what it would be like
So far from home
To see all the townspeople
The children around me all crying to be fed
I wonder if I’ll ever see them again
How in the world did we get this old
The flags got fifty stars
Children moved out
They got their own
Morning now
All those people
All those dreams
All my best wishes
To those through all the great years
Mostly they were my dreams
Lucky to have them
Happy to share
One day I may visit the White House
I dream about it
Dreaming it will still be there
– hk –

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