The Story's of Men

I carry with in my will The story’s of men A cold winter chill On a summer day couldn’t comfort The story’s of men I put stride in my fears and walked away my tears I remember the scent of your hair Like yesterdays air I go to sleep and awaken with the same head ache In a dead lay I felt that way sometimes I don’t talk much And I don’t listen Today I stood sound My heart just thought it stiffened Most pictures we see are black and white August for change Can you see the black in white At my counterpoint and I’m invisible A Camelot to her roses A portrait of warmth in the cold A poet at best Her’s at worst When obscurity was a curse Relinquishing the scent of an aged piano The melody it tunes Century’s of counting souls Any crisis can turn to an opportunity What is it in man that looks for what it can’t see