The Just of Me
The just of me is a special magic seed you see.
It has long drawn out roots branching off fruit.
The more you eat the more you will follow suit.
The just of me is why my life was meant to be.
I can steal a moment and shiver on your knee.
I can laugh or I can cry and sustain the mute.
I am loaded I tell you my seed carries the loot.
I’ll sprinkle maybe a dash up to a shining key.
I am counted in and out at the very same time.
Early in the morning or late at night, time I am.
Genres unfold whistling through my wind chime,
So, it's just the just of me being slain by a lamb.
Greetings I say to you, and welcome to your every bit of who!
The just of me swears something deep inside us always knew.
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2007
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