Blanket bound in crimson

Eyed by umber terrace bricks

Stepping stones to the future

Till the ladders have been fixed

Lignes des briques, mortier, l'heure perspective

Ruthless piece of mind

Swinging in hammocks

Of time

Hearts appreciate the pause

Tastebuds applaud the wine

Lignes des briques, mortier, l'heure perspective

Devils wear their raincoats that the

Angel's cotton knit

Mrs Nature threw a blow the

People couldn't slip

Oh my gosh I thought too much as I

Journey through Bobby's woods

Buzzards spin like ceiling fans

Sweet pine branches shaking hands

The wind self-oscillates a tune

If a tree falls, do you hear too

I'm home

Hanging from the washing lines

Hanging from the washing lines

Eyes are chasing down the lines

Of bricks and all the mortar lines.