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Milo and Me- Born well-timed fore-teen mouths from Me.
In an unknown town, in New York somewhere north of Albany.
Known to the Native American-as Wings Falls-
In their time-so it seemed.
Known as Milo to only a few--but to Me, my Brother-Best Friend!

But- It’s my assumption GOD had other intentions-
for Milo and Me. We lived and were reared by that poor family.
On that unknown Street- North-off Main Street.
Known to few-like J.F.COOPER and the“Mahikans.”
North about 66 miles from Albany.

You will ask of me and I know-how did two mountain boys ever make it off that Street?
It would have seemed to the multitude residing near that street-
That Milo and me were as good as disconnect from ANY Eternal Majesty.
My resolution to you would be-only by GOD’S Devine Grace and Majesty.

Then-the day came, much to the surprise of Milo and Me-
Mom and Dad sold that OLD CURSED house on that infamous street.
We moved clear across town to a more superior Street--or it seemed?
Until- Milo and Me got to know the natives living ON THAT STREET!

You see- on THIS STREET for Milo and Me-we discovered our addictions-
can’t you see? Myself just 13, and for Milo, fore-teen mouths younger than Me.
It started with drinking some “stout,” with was innocent-initially,
then lead to trips with Mary-Jan-I hope YOU see.
My presumption is for Milo and Me-we should have never got to know-
those good old boy on-THAT STREET!
 
Well-If I told the rest of this story-though poetry,
it would be far too long--hope you can see.
So--let Me take you to the end of the story.
We will travel by make-believe time machine..
Close your eyes, Close your eyes,--so you can’t see.
Fast forward we go, to the year 1998-now you may see!!
 
By this time, for Milo and Me, we had not seen each-other
in a LONG time-you see?
For each of us--a Wife and some kids-- only if you could have seen!
You would know-- the pain and heartache without Milo and Me.

You may notice and see now- But--you will NOT find--Milo and Me.
You see, you see-- it has been ten years now--for Milo and Me.
He journeyed to some faraway land, to get away from--his home land.
Helped by the Army--left 3 little girls to fend for themselves--in His home land.

At the end now- I raise one final toast to the memory of Milo and Me.
Not a toast like the days of glory brought--from some fine ALE- or smoke from Mary-Jane.   
But--a toast--or better said--a petition of a different sort.
To the GOD we once knew together as young men-- on THAT STREET!!
By: W.E.M
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