He ended his marathon thinking When he realised that she was there Making white his pebbled dreams Drinking him soft on his motion rare Whilst robbing the skies of the few Stars that just woke up She made architecturally sound confessions On the mahogany of his cultured body Knowing that marbled forests Were the flavor of this hot month With lemon winds to offset the rain They almost lost track of their road For he slipped by her summer prayers But luckily her spirit fingers nimbled And embraced the make of his want Before the sun of his thoughts slept If sorrow was an inevitable bloom Than surely joy was the rain to come For it watered bright their meet In a harsh desert grazed with Indifferent colored beasts They created the tree of their choosing Knowing that every leaf would hold Their scarce memories in static divinations Every branch would yield a choice cut Of all the desires they've ever articulated The joy of his road The bed of her eyes A holy aroma on their purchased fervor As the seasons are woven And time is undone �Bagger Vance 2003 |
| Joy Roads Sabbatical movements on your dry |
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