To catch your toes on silver
To stumble over gold
To never fear another day
'Til death carries your ghost
To see the painter's toil
On a canvas of pale skin
To wander the perimeter
Smiling over every inch
I never learned to think is not to do
To dream is not to follow through
With this stifled spirit barely keeping me alive
Sand on the fire long before I die
To see your own reflection
In the water passing by
To see that aging dreamer
Once with hope in rich supply
To clutch a branch of splinters
Once straddled in your youth
'Til the wind tugs at your stem
No longer bothered by the truth