Sunday, November 14, 2010


Tripped up, mumbled up mixed up muse 
I see you sitting up there on the lip of the moon. 
Broadly smiling, waving at me, 
your legs dangling like you're swinging from a tree.  
You make me smile my angel muse, 
whenever i look up into the sky and recognize you.  
I hear you've got a pocketful of thoughts 
raining down like tender teardrops.

You tell me to sit more comfortably.
To let my spirit catch up to me. 
But you know better, my angel muse........ 
my feet keep moving, my head's ablaze. 
Sitting still is difficult these days.
OK! OK!  You win my mate. 
Spill those neverending words of fate.

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