Oh, those spent Topeka nights,
How I yearn for your sounds and sights.
And to taste – once again – those hazy nights,
That I sampled so long ago through Topeka nights.
Now, on wet windy boulevards have I many times sauntered,
And gazed into flooding oily puddles,
And recalled that once our Saviour also walked,
Mocked, despised, reviled and deeply scourged.
Today but a stranger I may always be,
Doomed to forever seek and perhaps – never ever see.
But to be able to offer one pleading prayer to God’s delight,
to grant to me the wonder of a lasting final Topeka night!
I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Topeka.
Except that Peter Ruckman was born there (I think?)
I have read many complimentary things about its famed Zoological gardens, so its climate must be favourable to plant life and animal comfort and perhaps: late Topeka nights?
But I would like to dedicate this as always to my only son James with much esteem.
He, it is, who has through 60 past stanzas had to do the layout and perhaps edit, condense and place online the final finished professional result.
I know I couldn’t have done it on my own. Nor would I attempt to.
My many thanks and love to him, as always.
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