cursory warnings of a Harzard Perception
That some won’t see hear or take note
Of the hidden knots that fell to the ground
ignoring the Countenance of a Bear.
Shouting out over the organ coming into view
Taping out three beats in the fourth to make the bar
When you cannot see the hidden rings and silver boots
forgetting some already had there own Moments in the sun
when the blue became purple on a evening that shone
A Journey to the stars and back not so long ago
A memoir of red tree that has not faded away
As the paint washes away in its furrowed brow.
As forget me knots grow amongst hawthorn hedge
As you clock watch and stop to observe the maidens mask
Fall behind the horizon and the panoramic sweep to city’s ledge.