Mr. Lightfoot, if I may, given the prescribed medium, I offer a modest thought-poem of my own as a small gift: As the tides go, the wind blows, but still we look at time the way we did that first moment of life. Sunlight flirts with the waves while the leaves devour snowflakes as they fall; the geese laugh as they journey south, yet we still have the life as we saw it that first moment of time. Does the time slip away, do the pages fade or does the story ever grow cold, only if we let them, only if we let our spirit dim and only if we let our minds become weary. Mr. Lightfoot, I thank you for the robust collection of art you have imparted upon us thus far. I thank you for the lessons, for the experiences shared, for all the beauty and magnificent visions, for the pictures and tones, stories and poetry that set numerous stages within this man’s life; I thank you for the empathy, at times a source of strength, for just being there, whether you knew it or not. I appreciate those songs you give, which I still lean on or use as charts to navigate some of life’s more treacherous channels. Oh, the power of music, the mystical sway of art! Mr. Lightfoot, I anxiously await the new wonders and gems you are going to unleash on us as time goes forward; I look forward to those paintings and the canvases that lie ahead. Happy Birthday! Walls………
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