High above in the darkened skies-
The solemn clouds went silently by. 

The moon shone through A darkened red-
I was walking through the home of the dead.

I thought of the people in their final home-
And thought of how I was all alone.

I thought of the stones so dark and grim-
And the darkening skies, grew totally dim.

I though of the people and who they may be,
Rich folks and poor folk, and kids just like me.

I thought of their laughter, their joys and their sorrow,
I thought of their yesterday and their no more tomorrow.

I thought of their ego's and their selfish pride,
And things they did they wanted to hide.

All were equal now beneath these stones,
The rain started falling, as I rushed home.

So all you people who think you're so high,
Think of this place BEFORE you die.

Revised by author May 1999

Lonely Highway, Heavy Load

With The Twist Of A Key, 
The Beast Comes Alive-

Another Journey Begins,
Another Week From My Life.

And So It Goes 
Week After Week-

There'll Be Traffic To Dodge,
And Directions To Seek.

The Door To My House?
“Its So Close,” One May Say,

But, Alas, For Me, 
It's Two Thousand Miles Away.

I Turn Down My Drive,
My Rig Heading West-

A Prayer On My Lips
For The Family Just Left.

And So It Goes
As I Leave My Abode-

Traveling Another Lonely Highway,
With Another Heavy Load.

"Ode To H.R. Shipley"
To the tune of "Wabash Cannonball".

 Let me tell my story—Because I think I should,
 About a man named Shipley
 In the neighborhood.

 He has a fleet of tankers, 
 Latex does he haul-
 From the Port of Baltimore
 To anyplace at all! 

             Listen to the mumbling, the rumbling and the roar-
 Here comes Herbert Shipley
 Storming through the door-
 In his hand he holds some keys
 His bowels are all in stitches—
 "I'm looking for my drivers’
 Those no good sons of witches!"

 "Listen to what I tell you,"
 You can hear him yell-
 "I  want those tractors’ hooked up
 And you down town right now"-
 "We have loads from Guthrie, Firestone, and the rest-
 I want those tankers topped-off
 And your truck headed west!"

            "Call me when you're loaded, 
Call me right away-
 Call me when you're empty-
 Plus twenty times each day
 Call me on your way home
 Listen to what I say-
 Call me every hour
 Or I will dock your pay!"

 Now the moral of my story
 I guess it's sad but true.
 When you drive for Shipley
 I’ll tell you what you'll do-

 You'll drive your rig from sun-up 
 Until your dying day
 You'll point your rig t’wards heaven
 And Herb will say, 
 "YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY."

Written by Lee about a man and his company. "I have great respect for both."

A Life, A Love

A Smile, A Wink, A Blush, A Soft Caress-
A Question Asked?, and Answered, "Yes."

A Ceremony, An Oath, A Vow Spoken-
NOW One Life..One Spirit-
Never To Be Broken.

A House, A Job, A Daily Routine-
A Small Life Stirring,
Yet Still Unseen.

Pain and Tears Through This Duress-
A Tiny Infant, At Your Breast.

Laughter, Joy, Then, Unbearable Grief-
When Death took our Child-
Death! Oh Death, You Thief.

A Life Gone, but Others Given-
A Promise From God—Life is Worth Living.

Two Rings Exchanged Were But A Token-
Of Two Lives Shared-
AND
Spirits Unbroken.

I love you Nan Alese with every fiber of my body.

Love Forever,

Your Husband Lee
Happy Birthday, 1999

TO PAGE 2

Poems:  Copyright © 1999 Lee.  All rights reserved.

Index to Lee's Poems

This page updated 7/11/99