Some things…

not right, nor real,

not enough to provide a meal,

secure something precious,

they let us,

run wild,

but we need to release this inner child,

so that the picture flows,

the art work grows,

changing with the winds,

facilitating this up-hill,


through minute lessons,

grand in the scheme of things,

so the phone rings,

and we pick it up,

listen to the voice that tells us exactly what’s up,

subtle from the melt,

it’s just something that we felt.



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