The Last Outpost

Soon enough I'll be a ghost

My spirit resting with the host

I've squeezed from life more than most

And now is the last outpost

It's been good most all the time

Summer breezes, hills to climb

For every dream gone astray

Arose a new, brighter day

There were all those fields to roam

Passion felt deep down in the bones

A wonderland of hope to revere

To the children I leave it here

Sometimes it was just tea and toast

Other times the trimmings and the roast

Evenings with friends, times of cheer

Empty nights with no one near

(alternate verse)

Meals from the cafe of life

Plates no two alike

Tastes to savor or scorn

Served cold or served warm

 © W and M by Bryce Martin (BMI) 2024