All are born with a pocketful of change.
Quantity’s irrelevant, it’ll all rearrange.
Heads or tails is all we’re to find.
We face our truths or lie behind.
Standing tall, shiny and bright,
how many tosses to land upright?
How many flips and wobbles and spins
or hands slapped and someone wins.
We can add and subtract, save or spend.
Though the odd’s even it just depends.
Change can jingle or bear the weight of earth.
What is shared counts our worth.


Rough Seas


Off to sea at seventeen
To see a world I hadn’t seen
To find a place to call my own
Youthful vigor, this child grown
This child grown yet not mature
Too many choices that’s for sure
Open eyes and open mind
Open mouth running blind
Open mouths words will flow
Open heart with nowhere to go
Met a gal, our short time grand
We toured my ship hand in hand
Phone calls followed, her “brother” met
One of a few I’d like to forget
He asked a favor, I obliged
I tried being good, I really tried
But all was not as it appeared
Soon a meeting that I feared
Spoke with my Captain, a man truly trusted
He sat me down and said I was busted
It was that sweet young gal, I adored
Was a narc I brought aboard
Years now past, I say what the hell
A sailor no more, but I’ve stories to tell