These pages of mine
have all worn out
for my inspiration has gone
with all this worrying about
My life is no longer full of tone
of journeys and wonders
it has all but run dry
for I now,
live a monosyllable tone.
Oh how I wish for a rain
a swept of the rainbow mist
to dampen my fields
and bring a rush to veins
so that I may sing
up to the hills and yonder.
