The mountains stand in sacred splendor,

the streams sing songs, through restless times,

the doors have opened up,

for a Mark Twain born to rhyme,

Through the years of troubled waters,

there’s always been a dream,

to capture then release,

a life of ever changing scenes

I’ve done my best and maybe then some,

to try to be where I belong,

the roads and trails that I’ve been down,

must be a million miles long

From up near the highest mountain peaks,

to zero dusty elevation,

I’ve put my pen in rhyme,

across this whole God given nation

Seven years I lived,

where Mark Twain lived,

up in Virginia City Town,

restless souls all  want to settle,

but it’s so hard to tie them down

Some say my ship is coming in,

and I’ve done my time on docks,

it’s true it’s in the timing,

when to stay and when to walk

The very best to those who’ve helped me,

the very best and even more,

may they all be truly blessed,

on their way to Heaven’s door

Just be happy where you are,

be creative, do your best,

with prayer and perseverance,

you really truly will be blessed

From the mountains to the oceans,

pen to paper on I’ve traveled,

enjoy my rhythm, rhyme and roll,

It’s time my legacy unravels

As the bells toll for those gone,

and  our lives keep drifting by,

just across the stream or river,

we’ll meet again where souls can fly

For you and yours,

I’ve painted pictures,

pen to paper once again,

come back with me in rhyme,

to all the places that I’ve been…