Fin 2016

My guitar is dusty, I don’t play it anymore.
It’s all been done; I know what’s in store.
A miner, in a played out mine, won’t find a single jewel.
I’m the owner of a tired mind, looking for renewal.

I’m going to the lake, let the whipping wind sting my face.
Maybe there I can begin to once again find my place.
Blow away the mundane things, the things I have reviled.
Let me look at life, once more, through the eyes of a child.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s