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Four on the floor

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Four on the floor



Racing with the forces trying to keep ahead;
Missed some turns a while ago going straight instead.
The ghosts are out there watching shooting balls of fire;
I can see them as I’m passing singing like a choir.
     The crock is shedding tears but its laughing liker a clown
     Its face is in the windshield and I’m trying to run it down.
     Don’t know much about a mother but life sure qualifies;
     And you can keep those one room boxes down here in these mires.
Can’t imagine dropping anchor but sometimes I’ve slowed down;
Mostly when locked in loves embrace and listening for that sound.
Ahead I think I see it, an up and coming light
But it’s probably just the daylight that passes out the night 

Copyright © Leonard Taormina

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