Summer Garden

good friends come
and good friends go
like good summers gone past
we're all flowers that grow

in a garden and
blooming with joy
growing
with the people we know
and who we've gotten to know
just summers ago

and when it comes to pass
just like all the last
we can all look back on flowers
rising graciously
above the green grass

and when the skies had turned to blue
and the garden had not a drop of rain
a flower could always depend on the garden
to stop a flower's pain

and the flower began to flourish
while the garden was kind to nourish
and love and teach and have the patience to wait
while a young flower was realizing fate

as the wind blows the blossom away
and the flower finds the way to the gate
maybe their paths will cross again
another day
in the garden of a Church
where we all used to play

on idling

i like to spend my days
idle
thinking nothing but thoughts
that will help me become less idle,
that will help me move forward
in the aisle of life

yet i cannot proceed;
my mind is stuck on an island
where if you bleed,
you bleed
and you're stranded,
standing there in the sand
all alone and
there's nothing but watchmen on the boats
lying down on a supposedly supportive
ocean bed

i stretch my spiritless hand out
but they're all laying there
lifeless on an ocean bed
i often wonder if they know they're dead
but as long as the boat keeps moving
at least they're getting ahead