verse 1
Some little girls
like quiet games.
Some little girls
play school.
Some little girls
stay neat and clean
and follow every rule.

verse 2
Some little girls
are loud and yell.
Some little girls
play rough.
Some little girls
pretend to fly
because swinging
is not enough.

chorus
Then little girls
become grown up girls
Moving on to complexity,
But every grown up girl
misses her younger years,
The less complicated times,
and being free.

verse 3
Some grown up girls
like going out,
Some grown up girls
like to nest.
Some grown up girls
focus on their careers
climbing ladders and invest.

chorus
Then grown up girls
become mid-life girls
moving on to caring less.
But all the mid-life girls
Long for their grown up self
A special time they all confess.

bridge
So ladies don’t neglect these years
You might move forward, but can’t go back.
Make memories that will age with you,
So all those good times….
You can unpack.

For us it has been
a long, winding road—
of hormones shifting,
often ready to explode.

Our weight has gone up,
our feet have spread wide,
and volcanic hot flashes
burn us up inside.

So please excuse us
while we make this claim:
we no longer care,
and we feel zero shame.

We don’t care that
our outfits don’t match.
We don’t care if
pet hair is attached
We don’t care who
spots all of our chin hairs
Observations not needed—
this club no longer cares.

Our brains will forget things,
get muddled and confused.
We’ll search for our glasses
already in use.

We’ll cry at commercials,
then laugh at a reel—
this rollercoaster madness
is perimenopause’s deal.

So please excuse us
while we make this claim:
we no longer care,
we feel zero shame.

We don’t care that
our dark hair turned grey.
We don’t care if
our wrinkles are on display.
We don’t care who
is giving us some stares.
Opinions not needed—
this club no longer cares.

Our faces are honest;
we can’t mask a thought.
So we’ll fake our agreement
and pray that we’re not caught.

We are tired and we’re cranky
Just give us a little space.
Once this phase is over,
You will feel our warm embrace.

You’re an ole country boy,
you like to say,
When guests write in
to appear on your stage.

They seek solutions,
attention, sometimes fame,
But you cut straight through
and tell it to them plain.

They bring their conflict
while searching for peace,
They carry denial,
yet hope for release.

They bring excuses,
still longing to heal,
From bitterness and burdens
too heavy to conceal.

Chorus
Put down your phones,
turn off all the noise,
For a few minutes—
be good girls and boys.
Life may feel steady,
not rocky or uphill,
But sooner or later,
we all need Dr. Phil.

They’ll beg for guidance,
but resist the truth,
They’ll be right fighters,
in spite of the proof.
Pointing fingers,
condemning their kin,
Until you ask softly,
“How’s that working out for them?”

Chorus
Put down your phones,
turn off all the noise,
For a few minutes—
be good girls and boys.
Life may feel steady,
not rocky or uphill,
But sooner or later,
we all need Dr. Phil.


—

** Turned into a song using Songer 👇

“What does freedom mean?”
she asked her mom,
with little eyes
so bright and wide.
“It means resting well
after games and fun,
so you can grow
with peace inside.”

“Why does it matter, though?”
she asked her dad,
with curious ears
that loved to hear.
“It matters so
we can be ourselves,
and live our lives
with less to fear.”

“How did we get it then?”
she asked them both,
her tiny heart,
growing up a notch.
“It took brave people,”
they both agreed,
“who chose to serve,
inspire, and stand watch.”

Then their little girl turned
and looked outside,
at the flag flying in the yard.
And then it clicked,
In her innocent soul,
That it’s not just soldiers,
Who protect and stand guard.

Freedom belongs to everyone,
Caring enough
to make that choice.
From the littlest folks,
to the oldest ones,
Unafraid to use their voice.
© c.c. Snowden 2025 *  RIP Charlie Kirk *

When the headlines of the day,
Overwhelm you with dismay.
Hang in there, because on the way…
Is college football!

If you’re bored with every show,
And being cautious with your cash flow.
Just stay home and drink Merlot,
Raise a glass to football!

When you’re ready for changing seasons,
And love fall best for many reasons.
Figure out what jeans to squeeze in…
For GameDay Football!

If you’re skilled and like to cook,
And like to Pinterest for a new look.
Combine the app and your address book,
Part-plan for football!

He was the last man standing,
With five decades on the slide.
Just a Simple Man on big stages,
With his hometown full of pride.
A survivor of that plane crash,
That forever changed the band.
Why some were taken and some sparred,
No living person will understand.
But their legacy and their lyrics,
Like fresh waters in a drought.
Keep feeding generations,
that’s what great music’s all about.
From the Westside of the city,
To the best side in the clouds.
Lynyrd Skynyrd is still jamming
for the mortal and heavenly crowds.
Please serenade us
when we get there,
On that guitar the way you do.
Mr. Rossington –
You’re a legend, and we all salute you!

“The Dad”

I have heard your stories,
a thousand times.
Of big business deals,
and some childhood crimes.
Still I love to listen,
and drink them up,
Like cold margaritas,
salt and fresh limes.
We have been on trips,
and seen so much.
like distant beaches,
national parks and such.
Thieves could steal,
my every souvenir.
But the memories made,
they cannot touch.
Our amazing God
created life,
without blueprints
or a sketchpad.
And everything he made
is  wonderful,
But I’m most grateful for…
The Dad.
Your hair is white
mine is turning grey,
And I am more aware now
of every passing day.
I guess there is wisdom
in that old cliche…
Don’t blink an eye,
because time slips away.
Our amazing God
created life,
without blueprints
or a sketchpad.
And everything he made
is  wonderful,
But I’m forever grateful
you’re my dad.