Hung Upon a Yewtree

Hung upon a Yewtree

I saw a notice writ' in red

I stopped and read it carefully

This is what it said ...

Soon when you die

I will tell the world why

Your charm was an act

I'll tell them in fact

All that you did

And all that you said

And let them decide

When you are dead

The world may believe

Whatever it will

But your lies will lie with you

Silent and still

To the law you will finally have no recourse

For one cannot libel a corpse

Below the notice hung a book

I opened it and took a look

I was shocked at the number of names that I knew

And next to each, #metoo 

Benediction

My brother, my son, let's climb that hill

One last mountain until...

This is the last one my son

You climb another my brother

Before you too are done

Then, wearing these clothes that I wear

You, my son, you will go there

Remember all that has gone

And He will help you to do

All that must be done

Wearing my clothes, my son. 

Nostalgia

I used to be able to fly in my dreams

It was like treading water in air

By ever so gentle movement of limbs

I was transported up there

Among clouds in the sun

Or the moon and her beams

But nothing forever remains as it seems

Now I am content to remember I went

When I used to be able to fly in my dreams