Sunday, August 9, 2015

Steps- A Self Portrait

and I confess
I’m quite amused
when mind is sharp
or times confused

I marvel at
the cells of gray
on truest paths
they often stray

to weeds as tall
as oaks or pines
its feet don’t walk
in perfect lines

do cells have feet?
I do not know
you’d think that they
have tiny toes

it does make sense
their stepping shakes
my head will throb
with soleful aches

at times they dance
in tennis shoes
I bet those feet
have neat tattoos

and bracelets gold
‘round ankles small
that jingle round
synapses halls

where pictures hang
of mem’ries clear
of mem’ries dark
of mem’ries dear

I bet sometimes
the feet will linger
or speed on past
to hear a singer

sing songs I knew
but can’t recall
like ones I hear
in shopping malls

where I get lost
from time to time
but that’s okay
when I’ve had wine

or maybe beer
or something sweet
when I get lost
it’s always treat

so I confess
I’m quite amused
when path is clear
or tad confused

I marvel at
the cells of gray
the beauty of
a thought astray

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