NEW HOME IN THE SUN
There is a band playing in a turret of the castle of my mind.
Thinking about what you had said; knowing it was a lie.
Playing against Mother Nature; probing, hoping for a find.
Lying crippled from all attempts; under scrutinizing eye.
An insincere queen reigns in a self proclaimed driver’s seat.
Deeming laughter and drumming as almighty sin against God.
Labored, accrued and paid for by peasants without meat.
Her, wicked guffaw, exempt, ringing loud and feigned: odd.
In a dream, I waited, while entertaining a love affair with the moon.
All in a dream, placated, waiting for the sun to shine.
Asleep, daydreaming, of a Mother Nature soon to swoon.