.
The corners of my life are worn with cracks,
my spine is older and bowing.
My dust jacket has been consumed by moth,
yet the words within are still glowing.
Thunderheads are dancing in my backyard,
big bands swing in the childrens eyes.
When did imagination become insanity,
death is short-lived, yet everyone tries.
Distant tides crash in a familiar pattern,
queen bees dance within their hive.
Even while tragedy is striking,
you're still glad to be alive.
A glass of red wine sits atop my piano,
and then comes the sudden strike of a key.
A synthetic chord becomes entwined together,
kind of reminds me of you and me.
Where destinies flowed from the magic wand,
then a vast array of cynics came into view.
Then rumbling forces warred with us from
doing unto others as you'd have done unto you.
Complex and complete, yes--
alt and delete never understood, “just because.”
The thunderheads roared, and yet they restored
the man I really thought that I was.
The corners of my life are worn with cracks,
my spine is older and bowing.
My dust jacket has been consumed by moth,
yet the words within are still glowing...
The words within are still *glowing!