"Looking Back Through a Looking Glass" (Logic of the Heart)
If I'm a Styrofoam anchor,
you're a screen-bottom boat.
Like a jet-black Raven with a ruby-red throat.
They never saw us coming
when we washed up with the tide.
The sea turned to the mountain, said "Let the land decide."
You're a tree without its footing
and I'm a root that feels no shade.
If we were sown together, we'd be something to be made
But the truth lays far from thimbles
and my needle work is poor
Perhaps I'm just the ceiling beneath your second floor
We're a poem with no rhythm,
a song that doesn't rhyme.
A flock of hobby horses that are flying in a line.
And although it's hard to follow,
through the mazes we have left.
Until my final exhalation I'd say we were the best.
08-07-2014 Philip Rucci