“If I Could Paint You a Beautiful Song”

If brushes could create a song
I’d paint the words that I know belong
With every stroke another note
Beautiful words no pen had wrote

I would frame this precious song
So that the world could sing along
The words would flow across the wall
Like blowing leaves in the golden fall

The song is about love of course
Painted with meaning, my heart the source
A tear would trickle from your eye
Before the paint would even dry

For you would be able see and hear
As love would touch your eyes and ears
A song of feeling brushed on your soul
The canvas of life we’ve come to know

I know that it would touch your heart
So let me grab my brush and start
I’d create a world where you belong
If I could paint you a beautiful song

"An Angel in my Saddle Bag"

I never believed in fairy tells
Or pixy dust and wishing wells
Santa Claus or Kris Kringle
Nothing more than holiday jingles

I’m not much for mystic things
Crystal balls or magic rings
I guess that I’m a realist
Sight unseen it does not exist

Then came a day like all the rest
I donned my boots and leather vest
I took a ride upon my Harley
Past fields of corn and golden barley


The day was perfect for such a ride
Wind in my hair and bright blue skies
But trouble was lurking just ahead
I had this feeling of impending dread

My bike and I went separate ways
What happened next is just a haze
Someone was there that day with me
Someone that I could not see

For not only did I survive
And I’m surprised that I’m alive
But walk away I sure did
Just cuts and bruises upon my head

I’ll never believe in long ghost trains
Or even sprits dancing in the rain
But someone save me that fateful day
I believe an angel, in my saddle bag

“I Long For Love”

A look a smile a gentle touch
Little things that mean so much
A hug from nowhere a kiss just because
That look of desire and unyielding lust

Words from afar saying I love you
 caress my ears as they pass through
A flutter a skip on their way through my heart
What a beautiful way for a day to start

All theses things and many more
Have eluded me, locked behind a door
The key I use is my own desires
With every turn I grow more tired

A man should never share theses things
So I tuck them away beneath my wings
But some day when I can fly like a dove
She will know that I long for love