dumbfoundry

Happy Birthday to ya
even though twas late
it was thought of
but by gawd
not forgotten
but lost to the fog
rolling the sodden
log rotates
a way down
to the gates
of curled iron
the trails that lead
nowhere
but leave
pictures on the air
solid yet ephemeral
(and if that is a word
I am an emerald)

Happy Birthday to ya
even though it was late
it was thought of
but by gawd
forgotten
but not lost
to the fog
or the sodden
log that rotated
it way down
through the gates
of curled iron
and the path
that leads
nowhere
aloud