A Small Town Girl


Born as I am,

I am here, to spin the breeze,

I am here, to give it a whirl,

Born as I am, I am a small town girl.

I have lived and loved my sweeter days,

My shade for color, in my purple haze,

Free to my spirit, my spirit free,

When I choose to fly and I choose to be.

When time were a moment,

I were the painted face, of a flower child,

When I dreamed in my green fields, growing wild,

When time were a moment,

I danced on the shore, down in the sand,

Where the ocean laid, butterflies in my hand.

A girl that I am, on a bed of clouds,

The clouds kept me warm,

When the days were sunshine, that gave no storm,

What made of my life, made a magic spell,

The memories of summer, down a wishing well.

Born as I am,

I am here to spin the breeze,

I am here, to give it a whirl,

Born as I am, I am a small town girl.

Only For Heartbreak

You are headed only for heartbreak,

And untold agony and pain,

If you reject to accept Jesus as your Saviour,

Refusing to believe upon His Holy Name.

You’ll be forever separated from God’s love,

From saved loved ones so dear,

For you will reap what you have sown,

And it will be in "bitter tears."

You will remember all lost opportunities,

That you let pass you by,

For you are headed for heartbreak,

If without Jesus you die.

There will be no second chances,

Out in eternity,

And you will miss the joys of Heaven,

And walking o’er those golden streets.

You will miss entering Heaven’s pearly gates,

And dwelling in those mansions in the sky,

For "Oh, Lord what have I done?"

Your anguished soul shall cry.



We started out in life together fifty-one years ago.

Where this life would lead us, we surely didn’t know.

From the oil fields of Texas to White Sands, New Mexico,

to a career in the Army, a life we both valued so.

I sit here by her bed now, her body racked by pain,

Cancer is a terrible disease, causing both physical and

mental strain.

I would not let anyone else take her, to a treatment or a scan.

This is the way it should be between a woman and a man.

She whispers to me she needs to use the commode chair by the bed.

I disconnect the oxygen and lift her up, barely hearing what she said.

I make sure she’s clean and dry before I put her back to rest.

I can’t hide the tearing up, but I do my very best.

The night Death took her, I was holding her small frail hand.

Death had taken my most prized possession from this aged old man.

Now I sit here at night, always alone.

Friend, you don’t know lonely, till it’s chiseled in the Stone.