on an age old mountain ledge
under the old Indian fig
sat an equally old grey moke
of all years slowly passed by
he sat through rain and sun
but with nothing but just
a pinch of hope he survived
Seasons turned green to brown
brown to green and back again
many a god came 'n why?
Yet no reason or ransom
old moke just sat to hymn
hymn all a gods name
not a wish he did not deny
one another spring just arrive
while snow has just passed by
of all there appeared
in glittering white,
some green of the new and
with red of the rise
he seek none but thy
Of all he wished that old moke
happiness he called a name
so all in the sky and below
made a nod that rhymed
thy shall get that thy seek
be in peace 'n happiness be his
Monday, July 11, 2011
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