Songs For FreeA Poem by Phillip W Parsons
In the swale below the elm
And not so far from the wooded hut Where the ax-man rests Within view of the great house Where nobody lives And cut through by the shallow brook Who's bed still hides little yellow flakes Overlooked by the violent Goldrush Set apart from the Valley By an ancient split-rail fence Erected not to separate But to demarcate As points on a map There below the lone rain cloud Who's sole purpose is to feed the brook And keep the crows away There in the lonely place Lost to time There south of the bustling town Who's bell broke in such a way As it has never stopped ringing East of the Ocean Unfettered by time Cast out of the seasons And imagined nightly By boys who refuse to become men Girls who refuse to wear skirts Fences that refuse to be painted white Sleepers awaken And draw a veil Between those lovely things they desire And what they've learned to expect Deep in the swale Below the elm Who's leaves refuse to fall Not so far from the wooded hut And the ax-man's smokeless chimney Bisected by the shallow brook Still hiding her secrets There Resides a deep well made shallow By the abundance Of otherwise ordinary pebbles Tossed in, abandoned By morning and its rules But they are, each of them Songs Poems Stories Mad love Laughter so genuine it hurts Living ghosts of those To whom we have said goodbye But never let go Dreams And they are all Each of them More precious than nearby gold And they are all Each of them Free
© 2019 Phillip W ParsonsFeatured Review
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2 Reviews Added on December 16, 2019 Last Updated on December 18, 2019 Author
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