Chalked out visioned dreams drawn out by tiny prophet hands
Yet worn out by time gets to the problem that I'm
Roadside clover patch, searching for the luck I lack
Catch my eye as I untwine, only to find three smiling back
Simply to be
Clear to see
The cement is spreading wide as the flowers push on through
Causing webs of cracks to spread what can a mother do?
Residues of greens and blues smeared by the feet of day
A child's work, a friendly wash, down to dull, flat grays
Simply to be
Clear to see
I know I don't know much but I stand without a crutch
Shiny shards of broken glass, laid out like a promise in the grass
Found the perfect four, it takes a while
You used to smile, you used to smile
Come on fortune fish define, come and curl up in my hand
As the tapestry that's weaved confers up all my plans
Reading out the years into the rings of grain
Now a stump, once a tree on which we carved our names
Writer(s): Christopher Brady
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