Sometimes the country air is what you need, just don't forget what's important. |
I think with dread, a muddled head My bed is all a strewn With underwear, brush for my hair My ride is coming soon My bag is large, a small barge And yet it overflows With denim shirts, pleated skirts rough boots and panty hose. A cowboy hat, now pressed flat My necklaces and socks Scarfs a few, and glasses too An iron for my locks My makeup case, to accent my face So natural I will look Two months I’ll stay at the Lazy A Like from a Zane Grey book The zipper strains, my body pains To make my baggage seal A retirees dream it would seam The countryside to feel I take the train across the plain To the Colorado skies There’ll be no bar without a car To drown out hurtful lies I’ll miss his nose and sweet repose on his wife the scars he wrought I stabbed his chest at her bequest Like sweet Hamlet that I taught I’ll forget him here among the deer The cows, the chow, the chores Soothe misery, midst chicory Campfires with s’mores I know not when, I lost my pen my heart it races so my journals style, used to compile no matter where I go The newly dead, left no dread but this gives total panic To lose my friend, how will I rend my thoughts when I am manic |