Saturday, May 19, 2012

Never, ever get old

The sound of cars passed Below as the fan swayed; Thoughts & phrases amassed As the tender music played. Pen, the mighty instrument on paper Scribbles that make sense, no? Rhythmic power-I need to taper To reach an awesome,beautiful crescendo. But it came crashing down Ain't it? Darn I need to- Get this going, melody & sound, Feelings & instinct broken into. The sound of crows counting Mr. Jones looked on in awe, Ah there finally it is mounting Nope. Fat chance. Aww.