Walking across all these bridges,
Has graced me with elegant prose,
My passion explodes like a geyser
growing strong despite frictions below.
Turns out that truth won't fit in baskets,
And life comes from seeds that you sow,
And people have value without my infusions;
we travel--as equals--this road.
The Manager cut me a deal:
He gave me a seat to the Show.
His Son is the major attraction
and He speaks with a casual tone.
I got a lot for a little,
a loan I can't ever pay off.
My soul is a garden, and He's in the middle,
and nothing He's planted here ever shall rot.
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You write such lovely poetry. I use "lovely" in sincerity, just so you know. :)
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