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Le Shorts, Poetry

When You Mourn the Dream

When memories fade away

Staring at the mirror’s face

And you can’t seem to find a trace

‘Cause all is lost in the graying mist.

When you mourn the dream

And you can’t make sense of anything

You’re just searching for a reason

to hold on.

You can’t find your way

Standing in the rain

And all the dreams you thought you had

Don’t mean anything

They just fade to gray.

So find me here

Beneath each fallen tear

And as the daylight fades

I’ll mourn the dream.


“I think people mourn the dream, you know?” ~Shawn Connors

Poem by FanTC

Copyright FanTCBooks

Le Shorts, Poetry

The Warning

There’s a storm a’brewin’, love.
The winds are getting fierce.
Pay attention to the stars
If you happen to see above
The wayward clouds.

The trees are bowing low.
Listen well because they know
When the storm is brewing,
You best be doing
Farewell.

Now the sky is growing dim,
The clouds they’re turning black.
When you hear the warning call,
You best listen in
Or else.


FanTC
Copyright FanTCBooks

Ponderings

King of the Road

With everything being cancelled for 2020, my husband and I found ourselves with a bit of extra cash and too much time on our hands to browse the interweb.

We bought a motorcycle. The Harley Roadking is exactly what we’ve been looking for to replace the Sportster. Hubby has had the Sportster for almost thirteen years. It’s too small for him to be comfortable anymore, and much to small for us to be comfortable together. We’re bold adventurers, and adventurers need an accommodating set of wheels.

2020 was the year to do it. So we bought it. What better way to social distance (masks included!)


Sunday was a beautiful day. 90 and humid, which was perfect for long rides, we picked a city which intrigued us and took to the open road. The Wisconsin-Iowa Border is absolutely gorgeous. The roads appear to be cut through the earth, leaving sheer rock faces on either side. The countryside is rolling, grassy, or covered in green trees. There’s a feeling as if the land has never been touched.


We crossed the Mississippi River, throwing up our hands like silly gooses as we cheered our accomplishment. Dubuque, here we come.

Dubuque, City of Murals.


We had a wonderful time. Where have you visited recently?

This has been,

FanTC

Le Shorts, Poetry

Do You Dream?

Dream of flying?
Of soaring over mountains,
Scaling scrapers,
Or sunrise misty fountains?

Dream of being?
Of living every day,
Being big,
Or just changing ways?

Dream of walking?
Of stepping over fallen stones,
Treading lightly
In castles where the wind moans?

Dream of seeing?
Of viewing rainbows never seen,
Watching faces,
Of people who’ve other places been?

Dream of dancing?
Of waltzing with the moon,
With the sun
In a never ending tune?

Do you dream?
Of brighter days to see,
And if you do,
Would you tell me?


FanTC
Copyright FanTCBooks