The Great Red Buffalo

I give my all to those with worth.
Each love is loved from its birth.
Twas such a find to find you there,
To find a love, who cared to care.

My words found ears that welcomed their call
hidden in hair the sweet color of fall.
Skin as smooth as the feel of silk,
Skin as pale as the color of milk
but more than what these blue eyes could see
is the way you lived, and wanted to be.
Ambition and passion, purpose and drive,
together we grow, and love and thrive.

A power so cold, and dark and mean,
true love forbidden, or so it would seem.
We danced in the shadows, loved in the dark,
rocked in the hammock, and sat in the park.
I dropped the seed, in hopes it would grow,
I saw it get eaten by the selfish old crow.
It should have been planted, and watered and kept,
and to this regret, I have toiled and wept.

A sacrifice is made, a martyr is not,
Both bison and hunter will sit home and rot.
The greatest of things we wanted to be,
but the buffalo roams on, sad, yet free.
The first of its kind, and the last of its breed
Oh how I should have kept that seed.
To plant and grow, to protect and bare,
The only one I've known to ever care.

I gave my all to those with worth.
Each love is loved from its birth.
Twas such a find to find you there,
To find your love, you cared to care.

Mr. Bojangles

I am Bojangles,
the light in the dark.
The ranger himself and the national park
The one happy note on a day full pain
and the slow dripping roof in the north Florida rain.

I am Bojangles,
my dance makes you smile,
an easy distraction at least for a while.
I happily became an outlet for sorrow,
but the feeling you found, you really did borrow.

I am Bojangles,
and a trail oh so thick.
I'm every sound step and the one shaky brick.
I hold your weight and from here and there,
but my tires are balding, worn from wear.

I am Bojangles,
the last man entrenched,
the desert oasis, and the thirst that is quenched.
The giver of life, and of love the thief,
The taker of friends, the giver of grief.

I am Bojangles,
but not anymore,
won't dance for my baby, nor dance for a whore.
A candle so smoothly, will dance at the dark,
A move so bold, a courage so stark.

I was Bojangles,
in a time long ago,
I danced for love and friend and foe.
What I've learned is that you can't let it die,
Tis' better to dance than to sit there and cry.