Not to say I am a thing, for there
are many things that claim if I
should never again set pen to
paper or thought upon your
mind,

If you so happen to forget the
very lyrics to this song and
all that is tumbles still to die
beneath the moss,

Was this moment of salt upon the
tongue, not worth the rise of loaf
did you not taste the freshness in
which it came, the soil the seed
the rain the oat,

Or must this to, fade as a fleeting
wave below the oceans cloak
to ponder the reason in many
ways the only string that holds
perhaps by far my friend the only
sake at all.

© Demitri Tyler

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