The Tame Doe

The Tame Doe

The tame doe was ever so soft, like, a fuzzy woolen sweater this time,

the teacups in their place in time, all, like the cupboard door, blue and pushed shut,

I believed once that I was to die, without a cool and still night air rhyme,

I then wandered through the alley so, like an ever warm and gentle doe,

then i awoke in the time of life, that was the type to nary feel strife,

Walking on a wire was like the end, until i caught the edge, I impend,

that I did not die you see this way, yet it was just a passing, fad, phrase,

now waking on the near edge of dawn, I stood up and all of this was gone,

yet when I look back on the tame doe, I see nothing, nothing of this so,

yet still I live on the edge of dawn, without a memory of her fawn,

so was she ever truly there, I, simply know in my memory so