Paths cross on the lawn, under tree, in the shade
With no path yet past fascinates and arranges the day.
A pair of swimsuits, a handfull of notions
Like geysers in showrooms or spoken explosions
To once again soak me
And you.
Tucked in an enclave, a pocket of sun
From short stories to a contraption that clunks
After the Fairmont the rain fell in lumps
Until the shelter of the Rep and a tale called ‘True Love’
That you asked that I read
To you
I won’t define well defined casual tunes
For the songs that I sing are the songs that grow old
Though the tales that I tell are the tales that I’ll tell
Again and again and again
Hidden in few - two tents, cookware and steed
Seeds, flower books mesmerize, marvel and feed
Your quaint mind mapping ‘tography photons with reeds
On your fingers whom dance on a stringed hollow-shaped tree
That once sung for me
I remember