Creation of the last Christmas card ,
by these hands .

This may very well be the last time
my Girls are seen coming together.
Even if it is only on this card, and in this rhyme.
They, set in a scene of winters cold weather,
with the hopes, dreams, imagination in my mind.
This little family, I call mine,
that is separated by life’s experiences and many miles.
Yet I put them together with warmth, cheer and smiles,
 smiles to greet you all, all across this vast land
and with thoughts, desires expressed from my hand.
The hands of their father – this tired old man.

B.J.”A” 2
March 11^th 2002

Chained
This old Gipsy – so long ago – turned
in his mag wheels – his bridges  burned –
for that life, those thoughts now lie in seventy books.
On seventeen thousand pages, he spends, he looks
at the life, at the experiences of that other man
and tries to understand as best he can
where it was that his life had been ?,
 what it is, in that life, he has seen ?,
as it walked those many, long and winding roads, passing by
 glimpses of truths, caught in the corner of his eye.
Will he see ?, before taking that journey into the sky.
Truth he hopes to see, bye and bye, before the final goodbye.

B.J.”A” 2
March 11th 2002