i catch myself sometimes
thinking foolishly and have to be reminded that this isn't the west coast. Indian Treaties and such; these aren't my waters.

i have to be woken up and remind myself that she doesn't live here. don't be foolish, this isn't b.c.

and what a dream to wake from, to arrive at the lake without line and bait.
to row with no oar. to leave the net on the shore.
and Jesus was on the shore, He had arrived alone.
i said, "i can walk fine, thanks and i'll walk with You there."
and we passed many others, who climbed on His shoulder and His arms and i had to walk briskly to follow.

we were given seeds to plant along the way.
i sowed
and i saw
the others' flowers bloom.
but my green thumb was blue;
i was merely a follower.

but them! their thumbs hand long since disappeared.

and sometimes i regret not trading in my thumb for your nose, my fingers for your hair, my mouth for your ears. my kingdom for a horse and the horse for a penny.

there are no horses in my kingdom but i'm there sometimes and you're there sometimes. if you stay, i promise, you won't work a day in the orchards. i'll tend to the grape orchards.
and you may tire of me when the vines grow high, when the wine takes time.
then i will bore of you, at last, like a termite into wood.
Last edited by somewhat_here at Mar 29, 2008,
i thought it was good, very visual. some of it reminded me of Paul simons song writing, especially the seeds part, .. reminded me of 'the sound of silence'

good piece !