When young, looking past parents, to see the Grand.
The warmth of the withering touch made me stand,
Perplexed by the strength at hand.
Hard as John Wayne, as gentle as trifle, Sunday afternoon.
The wisdom you possess, takes me to the moon,
If only the youth could be made, from where you came.
Events from history, with our eyes, we see no vulnerability.
Lived through wars, strikes and adversity.
If your label has an error, tell them, I’m ok, strong forever!
Frequency of love, wave lengths uncontrolled, no toll.
Tune into HOPE, togetherness the lock.
BBC, not the Key.
Strength, in all, to see.
We love our Oldies.
By Ellis Robinson
Work of Unchained Wisdom ©