by Joey Collins, for Joseph

 I love to watch you run.
 I tell everyone that is my son.
 So graceful in your stride.
 My heart swells with pride. 

 I remember when you started to crawl.
 Not too many years ago at all.
 It seemed unreal to me at the time.
 I could not believe that your were mine.
 I remember when you started to stand.
 You were fine if I held your hand.
 If I let go you would soon fall.
 You needed encouragement as I recall. 

 I remember when you started to walk.
 Come to Daddy was the talk.
One step, then two, then three, and four.
 Then you didn't need me any more.

 I remember when you started to run
Soccer was easy and a lot of fun.
You ran down the field kicking the ball.
 And none could catch you, none at all.  

I remember your basketball days.
 A lot of practice and a lot of plays.
 Rebounding, stealing, and the fast break.
You left others in your wake. 

 I will always remember when you ran track.
 Most competitors were looking at your back.
The four hundred turned out to be great.
 The times, district, regions then state. 

I look forward to things you will do.
Life gets tougher after high school.
 Always work hard and reach for the sun
 And always remember I love to watch you run.   

A Good Place to Work
Clintwood Lumber Christmas Dinner 2008
What other place do you know?
Where else can you possibly go?
Do so little and pretend to grow?
And still get someone to pay you dough.
 
You could make a living in the mine.
You could hang around and wait for a sign.
But you know this job is great.
The only one that allows you to gain weight.

Something else you can do is teach
But education you must reach.
Must of us are just to blame dumb
We just sit around and twittle our thumbs.
 
Telecommunications is another way to go.
But you must be able to talk and blow.
Most of us cannot do this.
The only way we communication is with our fist.
 
A Prison guard is another way
To make loot for our day to day
After a while we start to think.
Man this life sure does stink.

A government job is the answer I said
Nine to five and practically dead.
Monday thru Friday and no Saturday or Sunday
And everybody’s birthday falls on a Monday.
 
We could write poetry to make a living.
But that involves more taking than giving
You must get money for your rhyme
Most of our customers want to pay on time!

Age can also be a factor.
Some of us look like a worn our tractor
Our days of production have come and gone.
What other job would keep us on!
 
You know this job is pretty darn tough.
And sometimes getting up in the morning is rough
But where else can we complain and fuss.
And listen to most of our customers cuss.

So, at last we come to this.
The job we have is just pure bliss.
After all where else can you work
And get paid for waiting on jerks.

Time Matters
Clintwood Lumber Christmas Dinner 2009

How many Christmas’ have you seen?
Can you remember when you were a teen?
Where has the time gone this year?
What have you done and in what gear?
 
What have you done with your time this year?
Have you helped someone or lent them an ear?
Have you tried to make a difference in a life?
Or have you wasted your time on personal strife?
 
Time is neither here nor there.
Time will pass you by and does not care.
Time will continue when there is time no more.
We only have a small amount and that is for sure.
 
So, think about it while you can still think.
While your mind still works and you still have your strength.
Don’t waste a day and on idle talk or time.
Try to make it work, try to make it rhyme.

2010 will soon be here.
Another 365 days another year.
Will we sit around and argue and fuss.
Or will it be less of me,
And a little more of us.