Down the road where the Buffalo grow and the grasses roam the field,
I know a place to hide my face and keep my heart concealed.
‘Tis there I meet my wandering feet and once more feel I’m whole;
I eat my fill of daffodil and rest my aching soul.
Once more I leave, my plans conceive, and venture through the world
And in the street, though people meet, too swiftly, lives are whirled.
From time to time, above the grime, inflated egos fly
Unchecked by thought, and though unsought, opinions pierce the sky.
Fact and tact make no impact as feelings are lampooned
And beating hearts can play no part and, deftly, are harpooned.
But through it all, I hear the call of the grasses’ joyful glee,
With Buffalo herds, though quite absurd, all growing straight and free.
Once I get there, abandon care, and knit my holey heart,
Then once I’m joined, I’ll gird my loins and make another start.
22 July 2016