I was born in the south. I live in the south and will die in the south. This is only a small part of the memories I share.
Charge me silly, oh, courts of Mankind who judges me silly
I talk in backward riddles, she dances on the edge of forever
Charge me stupid, oh, ridiculous traveling magicians of yore
Adding to, taking from a time, a rhyme, a moment with beauty
Love past me and this log and I lost my will to cry
I breathe and breathe thinking of my time coming to die
With stars and stars and dust blowing oer the moon
Eagles scream, she lies and dreams, and I play a fool
But . . .as I sit here longing and waiting for days and nights to end
I wonder really what "she" would see if she were me?
If I looked halfway clean to such a prim, proper young female
Singing softly in stranger's land--crushing hand after hand
Love past me and this log remains
Love past me and this log's the same
Love past me and time forgot my name
Love past me and this log . . .
Love past me and this log.
© 2020 Kenneth Avery