a Blurred teardrops vision
of what it knows... and what it shows;
from he that holds baggage- aint pretty.
Twenty years ,and 364 1/2 days
as she counts the rays lights
shine on Birthday wishes.
20 years and 40 or so
... Blue Moons later-twilight
introspections reflection, finds
Birthday candles dismantling
like shanties shadows and embers of remeberance,
one last door to shut closed as tires slow roll down Hurtsboros' Asphalt roads
and with fuel fumes- and through all Joy and all pain
One thoughts most endearing.
Cadillacs don't bleed
For' Cadillacs you see';
Are like the Holy Trinity-
And I'm The Commisar Magnus
As I leave sadness knaw and pang
On the road side… because unlike me,
Cadillacs don't Bleed.