of her pretty thoughts

the old man pushes his lens
into the soft salt of her thoughts
trying to decipher the meanings of whispered cries
trying to divine the truth to the tale
he peered at the living moving thoughts
as they spun and danced just out of reach
just out of perceptions touch

teasing and laughing at his fumblings and grasping
the lead him on blind to his destinations
they lead him on of their own accord
you could just see him in a rapture of her lights
stumbling down dark road
walking like the sleeping innocence into the wilderness
into places only she would know
the old man muttered curses for the elusive dream
muttered wishes to see the truth of the daylight dream

he sipped from the dusty jug
and wiped a trembling hand across sunburned lip
still his gaze locked on the pretty lights
locked on the enticing thought
follow me my sweet i will give you loves and comforts
follow me my lover i will lead you to safe warm heavens
locked in the twisting turning spinning song
of her bright lovely thoughts
you can find him sitting in desolate wilderness
staring into a thimble of bright light
with a grin of rapture on his withered face
with a death grip on the glowing promise of joy
of her pretty thoughts