Seeds of Thought
Strange thoughts tend to postpone,
the ink within my pen.
Wondering if anyone will read,
the words I'm preparing to send.
Do they have any meaning?
Or are they simple words from my head?
Will they possibly be ever spoken?
Before the day comes that I am dead?
Life has a hidden meaning,
everyone a special place and time.
How long will I be living,
before I find my peace of mind?
Maybe I've already found it,
but really, just don't know?
I constantly think about these thoughts,
everywhere I go.
Seeds that have been planted,
upon some fertile ground.
Bring forth abundant new life,
from which food can be found.
Do my words get planted,
within these endless fields?
Will they sprout any new thoughts,
to bring forth endless yields?
With wholesome tender heart,
come the seeds that I bestow.
Hoping to plant many fields,
where ever they may grow.
The ink has now once again,
begun to flow from my pen.
As I ponder these here thoughts,
my words have come to an end.
Danny Boy: 11-7-13
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