dreams and songs
had a dream as a young boy of a homestead at four grand rocky slopes down to the desert rugged peaks on either hand I dreamed of making music of writing hard back books watching critters splash in my pond fed by a brook but dreams are meant to be put to bed, aren't they? what I've sown is what I get and no regrets, most days I had a song in my head no one could ever sing it all a never ending music meant to catch those who fall looking for a singer who has a counter melody one who could weave in my story and sing it all with me but songs are meant to be put to the test, aren't they? what I've sown isn't what I get most days, with some grace This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License