Not yet old

April 9, 2010
A thousand years ago, when I was a happy kid
in a small house with two
people and it was hot
as long as I could remember
I lay by the lake at noon, waves moving near me,
sleepy trees bending over me,
my mothers words a savior
of my blue tears running out
my fathers words, never here,
a tired waste of time
and the bricks on the house
were hard and colored as clouds
and probably a million stars
soared up over sleepers stories as the singers danced together
and I, in my acient souls mind,
which was not yet lived
asked the light my anwsers
and though God could really see
the words and the lies
time, soul, dreams, goodnight.





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