Urban Rancher Publishing

It's Almost Too Late
The Urban Rancher realized that to find some of the answers he sought, he needed to ask questions of those who knew him as a child, and it was in asking his father about how he viewed his son during childhood, that he opened the door to enlightenment about the core problem which, deep down, was at the root of the Urban Rancher's inability to cope with life, and function properly as an individual . . .

Poems

The Urban Rancher
My Bike
Childhood's Maze
It's Almost Too Late
Little Brother
Floppy-Eared Dog
Only in Estes
Midlife
Death of an Old Friend
Flowers
The Mirror
McGraw Ranch
The Breakfast Ride
The Steak Fry
The Old Cowboy
The Mummy
The Ride
The Character
Our Steeds
The Garden
The Honeymoon Night
The Perfume
The Last Ranch
Patterns
Our Reunion
Where Are You Now?
The Forties
Mortality
Co-Dependents
Make Some Memories
Reflections
The High Country
How Can We Help?
Skybear
One of Those Days
The Vultures
Looking Backwards

It's almost too late to ask those questions
That have been buried so deep for so long.
He's over eighty years old, with perhaps little time left,
And I almost missed out on his song.

We lead different lives -- so different in fact
That there's not been much common thread.
We talk different languages, we go different ways,
But it seems now together we're led.

It's almost too late, for my mother is gone,
The person I was closest to was she.
Just my father is left, and I've awakened in time
To ask him to help me find me.

I delve into my memories, and I find there are voids,
Of great periods of time I don't see.
I've blocked off so much, not remembering at all
Who I was or what it was then to be.

I was only eight then, when one brother fell ill,
Of some mysterious disease of the brain.
He took seven years to die, and the fabric of life
In our family was torn again and again.

A quiet, shy child, I grew up withdrawn
In my own world of fantasy and dreams.
And to shut out the pain, I built up my walls,
Until no one could hear my silent screams.

It's almost too late, but I'm asking him now
To tell me just how he saw me again.
To open the doors, let the memories come in,
And help ease the fears and the pain.

How many of you have not looked in your past
To help you set yourselves free?
Just open your hearts, ask "What was I like?",
"What was it like to be me?"

If you're lucky enough to have someone to ask,
Don't wait much longer to find.
For it's almost too late, and then all that's left
Are those memories locked up in your mind.
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Estes Park CO 80517-3946 USA
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Copyright (c) 2008 Urban Rancher Publishing, Revised 18 May 2008