No finish line
Johnclarestokes
On the morning of the cloud Angels singing
The Thunderbirds taking wing
We were out at Mt Carmel gathering
The Chaplin he tried his very best
Not knowing who he laid to rest
The men in blue saluting one of the finest
friends a fellow will ever in life know
So many the miles we did go
Cameras, canoes, bikes in tow.
We both painted the same scenes
Listened to our Will McLean
Dove beneath the clearest streams
He could spot a chirp or a shard
Unearth history in any yard
Tell of the old Wellborn days hard
In Okefenokee we took my little son
Down River Narrows with Gators sunning
One of our many don't tell mamma son.
Lost in Osceola training for River Run
Hitching a ride with a hunter returning
Not concerned the daylight burning
Nearly a century you almost climbed
They were the best of times
Those hands joyfully raised crossing
That marathon line!
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