There isn't time to rust the brain
or moss to let gather on mulled over pain
There's songs to write and lips to kiss
and apple leaves pushing their blossoms whist
There's skies to pierce with thoughts of thirst
and rain to quench them when you're at your worst.
There's a million stones to sift and bury
and strawberries sliced up, sugared, very...
Bees full of bumble, black and yellow
Flocks full of flowers, white and purple
Friends full of laughter, beautiful smiles
and roads full of road trips for miles and miles.
So oil up the cranium sockets
Take your sullen hands out of your pockets
Call on your wishes to fly vivid and wild
To the moon of illusion in a sky full of style...
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2005
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