I'm fine.
Tell me the tale of the mariner's word,
Who shot Lady Luck, remember?
Tell me of the man and that wretched bird,
On the bust of Pallas in bleak December.
Show me the drawings of the maps you made,
and sing me the songs we heard.
Sit with me again in the shade
of a tree, then much I learned.
Run with me and rewrite my lore,
Revive me and banish my bain.
Life becomes a terrible bore
When living it mundane.
I used to be grand and I used to be bold
I knew books and looks were my lance.
I was everything, both young and old!
Yet now I am just an acquaintance.
Who shot Lady Luck, remember?
Tell me of the man and that wretched bird,
On the bust of Pallas in bleak December.
Show me the drawings of the maps you made,
and sing me the songs we heard.
Sit with me again in the shade
of a tree, then much I learned.
Run with me and rewrite my lore,
Revive me and banish my bain.
Life becomes a terrible bore
When living it mundane.
I used to be grand and I used to be bold
I knew books and looks were my lance.
I was everything, both young and old!
Yet now I am just an acquaintance.
posted by Stupida @ 12:14 AM
1 Comments:
At 5:41 AM,
Lady Lupinesque said…
There was a time I could salvage a soul
With a quote, a kiss, an illusion -
Along came a fool that would not be saved,
And there was a horrid confusion.
One lesson I've learnt; It is not who you are,
But what you're aspiring to be
What people see in you depends quite a bit
On what kind of people you see ;)
Young we have been and our wisdom is ageless,
In old age we will not confine
Our glorious souls, nor within these four walls!
'Tis promised, dear: You WILL be fine.
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