We live beneath the ground,
Buried in the soil, strangled by the roots,
Sustaining someone else's growth.
The rain makes matters worse.
The sunlight dries our eyes
And sets our dreams ablaze;
We spend our days
Our voices are inaudible,
Our mouths are filled with clay;
We suffocate expressions
So they stumble forth and die.
Watch closely though
And I will show you scenes
From countless dreams and abstract inspirations,
The twisted inclinations
Of lonely street lamps standing in a crowd,
Shining forth at midnight.
I am your closest friend,
The one that figures foremost in your memories,
The one you'll call for at your journey's end.
Remember how I wrote to you
With words extracted from my heart,
On pages stained by tears?
(So much depends upon your answer.)
September's song has finished,
Trailing off towards the August moon.
I had a premonition that my life would end
On this, the other side of June.
There is so much,
So much more that I would like to do.
If only I could make the time,
If only I could find my place.
Copyright © 1994-2018 by Benjamin Toney. All rights reserved.
Image credit: Artist Sharon Lyn Stackpole | via https://sharonlyn.com
Copyright © Benjamin Toney | Year Posted 2018
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