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Poem

If dust could age it would be dirt
And dirt becomes us in ways we are so dirty
If our minds could grow would it burst?
It would be called mind-burst a quaint little idea
Introverted thought
Comes inverted 
Little should we know when to paddle our own way
Struck by lightning thoughts of the ages
Look beyond the meadow or through the window
A blank stare goes no where
So comes dirt again it lays flat anywhere
It covers or soils you
I do not think it ages in ways that we know
So we carbon date it so we know
Dirt can grow become mountains I was told
The little mind-burst is a dirty I idea
That comes and goes when ever
Introverted thought is what people may say
Inverted thought is soil that can decay
So have fun with the ages
Older than dirt or Bluer than the sky
Is all we need to say is hello and good bye!

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