They dropped the flags at the beach!
Storms have moved farther offshore;
Time to power down the generator—
Be thankful for calmer days more,
A thankful sunset majestic,
As the rains soften and fall.
Come out, come out everyone—
Dance in Jupiter’s thrall!
Pray for Bahamas;
Pray for they of the islands;
We must offer succor;
We must do all that we can.
More will come out from Africa;
More storms to vex we many;
We always sure ready;
We always plan uncanny!
They’ve dropped the flags at the beach!
Storms have moved farther away.
Hold the children close;
Hold onto Life and pray!
Bless me back to Ol’ Mississippi
Calling on the phone is Helen Tippie
She’s a nurse byootiful, suitable, and something exquisite
All her patients love her and can’t wait for that next visit;
But we be sending best hopes for that man of hers—
What’s going down is a sad bad curse;
With wishes and prayers that he gets all better
Cause he’s a lovely man, like an Irish setter.
And now let’s end this poem all quick and nifty
Gotta take this call from Helen Tippie—
Passing thru this life of insufficient glee
I wonder how much better it’d be if she
Would curl up in this place of scarred gloom
And help till some space for love to bloom.
How terrible to be caught in our webs of woe
Lacking energy enough for any friendship to grow;
Get up, reach up, and take this simple, offered hand—
Time for Wine and Smiles and Joy to make a stand!
Yes, a loss is a loss, a stern truth we all know,
But look to the other side of the coin: it’ll show
That we all go on, we all will move forward in the end,
And if you feel you’d like some help, I’d love to be your friend.