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My
sons
I
miss my sons, I must admit –
I
really hadn’t thought of it.
I
worked so work would let me go,
And
weighed my gear from head to toe,
And
left them lists of things to do –
But
didn’t really think this through.
At
home I get a hug a day,
I
get no hugs when I’m away.
(When
I read this around the fire tonight
I
got a hug. Thanks Firedancer)
b
c b
I
walk this trail
at
the pace of a snail
cruising
along, as if on a rail.
My
feet are sore, my shirt is tore,
and
I smell like I just split from jail.
Kennedy
Meadows is up ahead,
where
I will go to spend some bread.
I’ll
bail from the trail & get my mail,
shower,
phone & laundry, without fail.
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