Now as the ancient night spreads new There is a constellation comes into view
It is of course Lonely and very distant A balance You may much admire In light of your needs Just a glimpse now and then Though seldom here and now Just something to draw upon Like thoughts of death
And think how far The tear will fall Before the idea is done Like being caught in a warm rain This very Spring Standing and gazing Not thinking Falling
Abandoned on a stairway Tapping the dust in your cuff
And wonder what it is What it is Think it a cello Some very old fiddle Even a blue guitar But never just the dark Where the air is full And you go play
R.B. Morris The man upstairs
The things you can't remember tells the things you can't forget
