In that garden just like all the years ago
wondering who searched in the night and did they know
Who they had found and did they listen
What would I say to them what might I insist then
that is not the spirit of the garden of old
surely not the lesson or the tale to be told
the tale I'm in is nothing to write though
That should have been over and done with so long ago
And so much more just to be past that
Over the unpoetic lyric of my last bat
and seeing how I'm so distracted begging your pardon
go about it anyway, try to find another garden
what
No comments:
Post a Comment