. . . figments ... reflections ... dreams ... observations ... fantasies... composites ... friends ... strangers ... visions ... stories . . .
HARRY'S GARDENS
(and imaginary characters)
. . . the only limits are those you choose to create in your mind . . .
Book Of Memories
and wished I could know you better one day when I meet you face to face maybe you'll remember this letter... it was thirty years ago jeesh I feel so old I was four miles from Woodstock and my feet got cold all my thirteen years dreamed of getting high but somehow my spirit was not ready to fly ...so I sang myself to sleep again... ...so that no one heard but me... ...and I put another dream away... ...in my book of memories... just a few years later if the truth be told I was so lost in true love that my heart got sold and I heard his voice if you know what I mean and I knew my heart would always be... seventeen ...and I sang myself to sleep again... ...and still no one heard but me... ...and another dream slipped on the shelf... ...in my book of memories... there came dark years when I tried to die there came bright years good old college try there came lost years when love passed me by there came light years when I learned to fly still I never learned to say... still I never learned mean... still I never learned to do... good bye it was eighteen years ago deep in denial I heard he was dead. life was put on trial then I heard his voice and somehow I knew that I had to live and I wanted to and I sang myself awake - alive but still no one heard but me another dream that still survives in my book of memories see I've put on his shows for myself like I hear you do for others and it may be just a dream for me but I still feel like we're brothers there was always something that stopped me from stepping out on the stage maybe fear, maybe pride, maybe life denied I just watched the turning page always told myself I was waiting to share waiting... for... the one sitting here alone it's becoming clear I have not yet begun for I've only dreamt while I was asleep singing softly to myself living in a book of memories I've created by myself and I wonder now, if it is too late sitting here all by myself is there any worth in the words I wrote sitting here... up on my shelf it was just tonight I read about your show wishing I was there but I didn't go I live far away feeling old and tired but reading your words I felt... inspired... ...so I sing myself to sleep again... ...does anyone hear me?... ...another dream begins and ends... ...in my book of memories... and now I sing myself to sleep again it's still comforting for me another dream of finding friends for my book of memories Book Of Memories (For Harry and John) Ric Candor ©1999 EMAIL
|