Cold, Misty Morning

This is the first song poem I ever composed which I kept. It was a cold, misty morning, in Washington DC.

Even then, I knew, somewhere in what passes for my consciousness that my attempt to perform what is called mariage was a total failure which would twist not only my own, but the lives of two others, the little girl who took my cherry and the innocent child brought into the world through this misunderstanding.


If you wake up to a cold, misty morning
and it's not the cold, just a twist inside your mind,
Don't let it bother you...
If you've got a lonely feeling that your life is stealing by,
You're a child of the time,
and in another rhyme, you'll be doing fine.
Just don't stand in too many lines!

If you run into a snow storm blowing
and it's not the cold, just an emptiness that's growing,
Don't let it bother you...
If you can't seem to find, in front, the things you left behind you;
You're a child with no place!
And that is no disgrace, but there are things you've got to face!
If you don't want the prize, don't run the race...

If you've lost all the gold you were owning,
and it's not the loss, just love that you were holding,
Don't let it bother you...
If the whole of your selfishness is longing for her tenderness, again!
Well, the world won't end without her;
Altho, it may be colder, and m u c h darker:
Strike another match, and become wiser...

If your sunshine is turning to teardrops,
and they're burning in your eyes, and they just won't stop!
Don't let it bother you...
If these shadows in your heart are tearing you apart with groans.
You're a child with no home,
and there's nothing you can do, but see what you can do
to make a start to mend what was broken...

It took me thirty years to complete this song text -- that may tell something of why, despite the excellence of my poetry, its commericial value has been nil.