somebody heard his 
tired old vision
giving way as he aged,
and she grinned
like a solemn old cat,
in the yard, and all that
and the land giving fruit trees,
with little young fruit bees,
so the dog’s been depressed, lately
lately, nothing for playing with
he keeps trying to catch those,
quick little bees he sees
but it keeps getting harder, like that
the world’s getting flat,
or so that’s what Freidman says
and the guitars stop sooner,
not later, these days
and still, somebody heard his tired old vision
one third the money, and still
life is so lovely
not trendy, ostentatious, not pompous
but so soft like a melody,
humming the hummingbirds
asleep with the bees
and the trees,
and the leaves,
with the dreams he sees
as somebody sees his tired old vision.
CHRISHEBDON 09-10-06
