I have sat out these days,
On a sideline I so designed,
Where I can’t seem to see,
And Forage for what I must.
But, my temperament as a writer,
I am somehow still always able to trust.
I have these stories of life lived and taken,
To be the story teller I deny the truths.
Just simple lines of poetic dribble is what I somehow always find.
I dismiss the calm hindu smiles encountered along my path,
Only roadblocks of dissolution for wisdom I hear,as they try to envelope me in due time.
These people I remember and these people that I forget,
They seem to me casual songs I hear in my head.
They are Always moving forward as if by a tempo,
With the occasional break in beat,
To sit by the river and let it all just mellow.
Brought to you by Eddie Cabbage