Before My Final Journey
I have been filling this small sketchbook with on-site drawings while on journeys away from home...sketches of parks, coffee shops, art centers and studio sessions, at restaurants, churches, bus stops & bus rides, at concerts, with and without my family, and on & on. 
My plan is to begin turning those sketches into paintings...
paintings of the years before My Final Journey.
Winter walks beneath the moon
To me always seem to be over too soon.

Under the trees I recall and reflect
On events that have passed and their affect.

Words from a stranger or a kindness seen
Are memories that mean a lot to me.

Aunts and uncles and, of course, Mom and Dad.
I remember so much from the warmth that we had.

Then sitting out front with the girls next door,
Or at school sharing candy from the corner store.

My memories color and light the way
Each and every single day.              ~ C. Keenan
Winter walks beneath the moon
To me always seem to be over too soon.

Under the trees I recall and reflect
On events that have passed and their affect.

Words from a stranger or a kindness seen
Are memories that mean a lot to me.

Aunts and uncles and, of course, Mom and Dad.
I remember so much from the warmth that we had.

Then sitting out front with the girls next door,
Or at school sharing candy from the corner store.

My memories color and light the way
Each and every single day.              ~ C. Keenan
Winter walks beneath the moon
To me always seem to be over too soon.

Under the trees I recall and reflect
On events that have passed and their affect.

Words from a stranger or a kindness seen
Are memories that mean a lot to me.

Aunts and uncles and, of course, Mom and Dad
I remember so much from the warmth that we had.

Then sitting out front with the girls next door
Or at school sharing candy from the corner store,

My memories color and light the way
Each and every single day.

                                           ~ C. Keenan