Two rams are we, you and me.
My hooves were fresh, horns just new.
I sat on your hill, you taught me
everything, your disciple,
your Rip Van Winkle.
Your mouth was wide but
your legs were thin. You said
“I’ll leap across gorges”.
Dad, I believed you,
So sound asleep.
I watched, as you fell into
all the holes, horns chipped, denting.
Hoofs scratched, bending.
Tried, you did, to bound over me,
you broke my back; I even ducked.
Still asleep, barely.
What sort of ram are you?
Gorges don’t come small
enough for a mouth like that.
Found my own hill then, did I.
My broken back is healing now.
I am my own disciple now.
I haven't tried to leap over a gorge
yet, I'm training for the day.
Wide awake.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Two rams are we, you and me.
My hooves were fresh, horns just new.
I sat on your hill, you taught me
everything, your disciple,
your Rip Van Winkle.
Your mouth was wide but
your legs were thin. You said
“I’ll leap across gorges”.
Dad, I believed you,
So sound asleep.
I watched, as you fell into
all the holes, horns chipped, denting.
Hoofs scratched, bending.
Tried, you did, to bound over me,
you broke my back; I even ducked.
Still asleep, barely.
What sort of ram are you?
Gorges don’t come small
enough for a mouth like that.
Found my own hill then, did I.
My broken back is healing now.
I am my own disciple now.
I haven't tried to leap over a gorge
yet, I'm training for the day.
Wide awake.
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