t'ease or to ease?

[MoMack]

Jerry, my friend,

you've done it again,

even in your silence

the familiar pressure

comes to bear, demanding

I pull words from the air

with only this morning

and part of the afternoon

to compose an ode worthy

of one so particular

about every turn of phrase,

demanding it hit home

in a thousand ways

before making it his own,

and this I can't do alone.

Now that the singer is gone,

where shall I go for the song?

Without your melody and tase

to lend an attitude of grace

a lyric is an orphan thing,

a hive with neither honey's taste

nor power to truly sting.

What choice have I but to dare and

call your muse who thought to rest

out of the thin blue air

that out of the field of shared time,

a line or two might chance to shine --

As ever when we called,

in hope if not in words,

the muse descends.

How should she desert us now?

Scars of battle on her brow,

bedraggled feathers on her wings,

and yet she sings, she sings!

May she bear thee to thy rest,

the ancient bower of flowers

beyond the solitude of days,

the tyranny of hours--

the wreath of shining laurel lie

upon your shaggy head

bestowing power to play the lyre

to legions of the dead

If some part of that music

is heard in deepest dream,

or on some breeze of Summer

a snatch of golden theme,

we'll know you live inside us

with love that never parts

our good old Jack O'Diamonds

become the King of Hearts.

I feel your silent laughter

at sentiments so bold

that dare to step across the line

to tell what must be told,

so I'll just say I love you,

which I never said before

and let it go at that old friend

the rest you may ignore.

[dieseldoug]

to ease my soul.

[edger]

Sigh.

[MoMack]

River going to take me, sing sweet and sleepy,

sing me sweet and sleepy all the way back home.

It's a far gone lullaby, sung many years ago.

Mama, mama many worlds I've come since I first left home.