Aspirations of a woman Child with a dream A fear of falling in love Grasping at a starry beam . . . Harmony in springtime New fawn with the dew Songs of happy lovebirds Dear Iím dreaming of you . . . Of you and nightingales Of gentle breezes and fair nights Arm in arm tender together Loving under soft star lights . . . Gentle, gentle, loving Is all I care to know Sharing time with you angel Is my only way to glow . . . Knowing all is for today And nothing for tomorrow A thousand days to come For memories past would I borrow . . . The twinkling in your eye The softness of your touch The feeling of your love I only ask that much . . . . . 1977 wgm.
Fresh cut hay laid today Smell of weed flowers Smell of summer hours From the fields Dew on the grass Freedom in the air Bright breezy morn White on blue drifting The farm . . . Use to wait for the time When I became a big girl Use to dream of being something More than they wanted me to be Was going to take the world And put it in my hand And spin it on my finger . . . Got my man Got my family Got my work But thereís more I know, but what? Somewhere in a dream Somewhere on the other side of Oz All my answers lie Written in the sky I know . . . I walk down the path with my shadow Talking to myself About the virtues of womanhood And the mysteries of life Stopping by the black pool Arguing with the image That reflects all That knows all That tells nothing . . . I dive into the pond Will someone wave a magic wand When I surface Will all the dust upon my shoulders Float away with the ants That fall from the trees Or will I be whisked away With the leaves to the dark center of the forest To hear the ocean In the wind . . . In so many ways On so many days A smile is all there is I want It is all I care for It is water to the thirsty It is blood to the soul I would that I could Stand in a shower of such . . . Sometimes I reach out and wait And the response is never there Nothing but the air To greet my hand Nothing but the sand To sting me as I stand alone The seed from me need me But they cannot touch me here . . . Where are you then Are you a phantom in my girlish dreams? Are your real or an ideal? Do you care, will you share your life with me? Do you live? Can you give? I can . . . Stopping to rest Stopping to dress After I lay naked With a book of poetry With a man in a tall white hat With my favorite mirror Youíre not even here Never thought you would be Only me and the sea And the dreams And his book of dreams In his book of dreams . . . . . 7/10/81 wgm
Itís rainin here and I donít know why Chillin out in a field of sand watchin snakes dance to my favorite band countin out my hundred grand that I got with a little slight of hand Feeling the vibrations in my hair world could be burnin but I donít care you know sometimes you just want your share and once you got it you can go anywhere Saw you standin there yellin at me finger waggin like a crazy bee feel like a Jesus Christ lizard nailed to a tree you know how I just need to be free Oh you know how I love you so but Baby I think you got to let me go the stakes are high and my spiritís low if you loved me too then you would know Ants come marchin by two by two crazy bastards all dressed in blue you know Iíd like to go runnin after you but you know Baby it just wonít do Thunders rollin in with a boilin sky I live in the desert where it supposed to be dry Preacher told me that, is it a lie? gonna rain and I donít know why gettin ready to rain again gettin ready to rain again gettin ready to rain again gettin ready to cry again If I had wings Iíd fly away know for sure I wouldnít stay I suppose I could kneel and pray for the rain to come back some other day But at this age my knees donít bend so well and I donít like being that close to hell If I had two souls from the wishin well I still donít think that I would sell Ravens are comin so you got to beware feel the darkness flyin through the air If your heart were filled to the brim with love the ravens just might become a dove But its getting ready to rain and I donít know why I live in the desert where its supposed to be dry Preacher told me that, was it a lie? Thunderís rollin in cross the boilin sky gettin ready to rain again gettin ready to rain again gettin ready to rain again gettin ready to cry again Someday it will stop but I donít know when maybe if I kneeled down to pray maybe it would all go away maybe there would come a dove if your heart were full of love maybe Iíd go runnin after you if my heart were really true maybe youíd stop yellin at me stop and realize I just need to be free maybe the snakes would burrow in the sand if I turned off the music to my favorite band but still the rain keeps comin down God I hope that I donít drown I live in the desert where its supposed to be dry but its raining here and I donít know why . . . . wgm 4/5/01