Friday, September 27, 2013

spring

You and I run in one season
songs sung in the same keys
out of tune and out of time
rock and roll was never you and me

we rock, we roll, we roll, we roll
kids spinning in cocoons down a hill
because the world would be too real
if we dare stand up, stand still

spring is our season
that of greedy youth
where everything must be
christmas time new
even though the tingles
and midnight wakes stopped
too many decembers ago

it is the time to bottle butterflies
and other uncatchable pretty things
putting your ceaseless want into a jar
and wondering what it means

winter autumn summer are nothing
but the sleepy dream of spring
where the days deal in do-overs
where the clock strikes lightning
where the night is held at arms-length
as if to say no, not yet
we're not ready for you

spring is the real purgatory
the invention and rebirth of us
you and I, into a million different wrongs
trial and error, try it and err or

maybe tomorrow
when we have grown into our resignation
maybe tomorrow
when we wake bleary eyed from the lethargy
of too many dreams

maybe then will come
the end of this eternal spring
when we will know what we want
when we will want what we know
when we will have what we want
or want what we have

maybe then our want will
blister first in the sun
and wither then in the cold
and perhaps at last, at last
we'll have got what we want
and have grown old

grown old of being young
and tired of forever spring
got over rolling down hills
without seeing anything

No comments:

Post a Comment