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When I saw the waters of Lake Pontchatrain, I was transported back again To a time out of time On a second line Marching to their own serenade Suspended on a sweet refrain The saints and the haints at the Mississippi’s gate Come drifting in on the steamy haze We pray for a breeze To stir the leaves of the Live oaks draped in Spanish moss Feel the rhythm and pulse  Of this human gumbo The threat rain but thunder only rumbles...

Palms touch and fingers meet Hold my hand to cross the street Outstretched arm when you reach hold my hand to fall asleep When life is late and time is old I hope it's still *your* hand that I hold song lyrics concept: a story progression of times in your life anchored by hand holding You are/were there to hold my hand I wish you were here to hold my hand I was learning to talk/walk, you were there to hold my hand (you = parent)young at heart,...