American Bandstand: Aging Liberty

... I wrote it during work on a piece of reciept paper...

Even in times of shame,
I still hear your sweet music calling me.
Sweet, soulful woman of the west...
my friend in times of need,
it was your voice that led me to this place.
It was your world that held me in the palm of it's hands...
I have watched you age
in your tinged flapper dress,
without grace...
on Southern Comfort, football, and mind games.
You have grayed, dancing woman,
almost as surely as I have grown.
But the glow from your eyes is far from gone...
gone...
Gone are the winds that blew through your hair...
trees, fields, plains... replaced by industry,
the wonderlust of Silicon Valley...
Your words have changed too.
They disintergrated from grand,
sweeping eloquency to an electric buzz,
the kind heard on hover rounds...
but I still understand you and
your never changing foundations,
because they're mine.
You are a reminder of simpler times, darling woman!
You would laugh to hear me say that,
thick, hearty laughter...
chuckles as sultry as your cinnamon flesh,
because you never made it easy.
You were the brave one painting the roses red in all their glory.
And even now,
when you're poor, desolate...
clothing in shambles...
I can hear your sweet humming and
I know that you still hold all your glory
in the palm of your unapollogetic hands.