October
Sunday 15 August 2010 photo 1/1
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Down to the valley where the fortunes grow.
Down to the free that gathered holy 'round the fire that grows so well.
On with the laughter when the work is done.
It is what it is, a passing work of human hands where faults abound.
While the rains would come.
While the end was unknown.
Nothing had proved too much.
No path was solely my own.
Most of the daylight nothing filled my mind.
Quiet was I and I was held away from evil that spoke my name.
All he was wanting was a bumbling man.
I wouldn't go, wanting only to feel the time around me stay.
Annons
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