If I Survive, Deliverin' the Mail
We're in the midst of natures blitz.
An air of mist we're all trying to resist.
It leaves me wondering if I'm alive.
And what I'll do if I survive.
We've lost the best that lived in jest.
He quietly said what we suggest.
A life delivered walkin' around.
Each mail box filled with his earthly sound.
Just where did all his smarts come from.
It sure all added up to a mighty tidy sum.
As we count our blessings now that he's gone.
With our empty hearts filled with so long.
So now I pray that what I say.
May have an ounce of his dismay.
And a pound of his sweet soul.
To hear that sound that makes us whole.
You'd think that I thought he's a God.
Well, yeah, whatever, it's not so odd.
To be in awe of some on earth.
Who seem too good right from their birth.
He's not a saint, he'd say he ain't.
He lived and loved, a song his paint.
An inspiration to find a meaning.
In all that's good, and all that's demeaning.
I could hear him here, sipping his beer.
Stopping to say what's in his heart.
How he's been glad to play his part.
Deliverin' the mail right from the start.
Note: This is in tribute to one of the greats we just lost to this horrific virus. If you've been watching the news, you'll know who he is. He's now up in heaven getting back into show biz. <3 :)
Copyright © Robert Johnson | Year Posted 2020
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