L aying down on a porch full of dreams,
O n a land full of hope,
N eed to get on my grind.
E mpty cabinets,
L onely pots and pans.
Y ellow dust caving the counter.
M elodies humming softly in my mind on their own.
U sing my head for a place to escape, finally!
S howing me how to be free.
I mold them, but still, they are alone.
C limbing on the back of a beat just to get away.
F lowing on the minds of this street is the dream.
L oud pops quiet me.
O nly at night will they come looking for me.
W aving through air.
S eeping through the music.
This Melody. These thoughts This music.
If only others could see.
Copyright © Anthony Scandrick II