Oct. 4th, 2008 11:38 am
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 Monday. Monday. I can climb;

must get to the peak in time.
Tuesday. Tuesday. What I reach
turns at once into a peach.
Wednesday. Wednesday. So much hope;
have to reach far up the slope.
Thursday. Thursday. Not enough
to be present. Must be tough.
Friday. Friday. Have to work;
pain's no limit, clean and jerk.
Sat'day. Sat' day. So much fear
reaches upward, still I dare.
Sunday. Sunday. Far from rest
seeking vision, on I quest.

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
a radiance that we won't soon see
as green of leaf hides grey of tree
mind still ensnared in shade of night
hears voice in distance proclaiming spite
name one of these and it will fade
we're told just how the game is played
in the right place we'll set the lamp
and look outside at humid damp
there's never any chance for rest
yet we must make a jape or jest
a sort of thing that once possessed
would give us hope for some reward
still should we the true day accord
to grant our vision what was known
the kind of chance that one alone
would take but once you're in the swing
there's not a hope that this one thing
would let you torment your own heart
much sooner you'd your own self cart
to some old place where calm remained
the sort of thing you'd call unstained
unwithered and still fresh and new
under bare feet you'd feel the dew
yet morning passes and soon comes
the moment when day turns to crumbs
the stars return with clouds of night
obscurity shall mask the blight
now what possessed you to take heed
of ancient fain and fallen creed
now in the time that still remains
we want the fruit of your young brains
name all the things that may surpass
the sight of dew fresh on the grass
and you will find you still can't stand
on what is at last your own land
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
in demanding that we answer those who ask are not being kind
for the journey that we've taken requires first that we unwind
over all the the high and lowlands we have come to talk and eat
this is now the proper season all our friends and kin to greet
in the days when we were younger all our journeys ended well
now that we are somewhat wiser it's become quite hard to tell
all the days of our long travel we regret the choice to roam
but the evening lights are calling soon we'll see our little home
days and nights of work and thinking give us pains this we agree
but the season is the right one to pile gifts beneath the tree
all the days that we've been granted by the mistress we call life
are the better when we've taken time to be just man and wife
all the days that we've been working we've not made a giant pile
still we have got some good reason for content this little while
rhymes and such i've got quite good at this at least can't be denied
for such things make life the happier and are a true source of pride
but the thing that really matters really makes this life so sweet
is the fact that i have known you that at last we got to meet
long the time we have together this the hope this my desire
for the times are growing colder and i seek your love's sweet fire


fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

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