Bide

I’ll try to find a nice shiny note for you
in every song that I listen to
I know you almost hear it too
every once in awhile
standing on tip-toed
glass shoes
thank you for calling on me
when I call you over
I just waste your time
we’re both bored anyway

Play your green-grass guitar
Throw your gold medals in the water
Buy a wreath of yellow roses
hung round your neck like a heavy halo
and you can skate on shoes made of glass
I can only stand with my roots
making cracks across the grass

I’ll listen to the birds on my shoulder
playing notes that never last
I’ll take my time growing up
but you’ll meet me on tip-toes
on the top of your house
peeking out your windows
I know I’ll find you there
if I whistle loud enough
but for now I’ll wait
and peak above the treetops
biding my time

~ by two of us, riding rainclouds on July 1, 2009.