When my heart begins to freeze,
I don my Sunday morning jacket.
I sleep in shade of screaming trees,
finding peace amidst the racket.
as I count the dimming stars:
finding peace amidst the racket,
making cots of hard-top cars.
I am also counting crows.
Making cots of hard-top cars,
their squawking grows a bit verbose.
whose speech is modest as a mouse.
Though their squawking grows verbose
when playing to a crowded house.
Ask my friends Elliott and Kurt.
When playing to a crowded house
they found a cure to all their hurt.
when my heart begins to freeze.
They found a cure to all their hurt,
asleep in shade of screaming trees.
1 comment:
very much enjoyed friend. nice writing.
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