Skipping Stone

SKIPPING STONE In a constant lack of motion but a reckless state of mind, all you want is your seclusion and a friend who's hard to find; you've been looking through a window at someone you never see, never reaching for a reason never thinking I'm just me. As if you want to be alone. Or just another skipping stone, with someone not too well known. In the hopeless life you're living, there are friends who leave you cold, it's a carousel you're riding, and the song is getting old; all the things you've held most dearly come to nothing in the end, and your search is overlooking someone who's more than your friend. Someone who'd be there when you cry. Who'd never think of asking why, who could help you learn to fly. Living songs about confusion like a puppet on a string, one is pulled and your responding is whatever pull should bring; you will go in the direction everyone says you should go, and the person you are hiding is someone you'll never know. Out through the window is your friend. From the beginning, to the end, who will give, but never lend. © ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet