Chapter

Who is penning tales like this
who now writes the ending
is our sunset penciled in
or on us is it pending
Are we just the paper
or the thought as God is writing
is the play we see today
the truth come out of hiding
Give to me a thousand smiles
each one I'll stop to measure
be it paper, pen or thought
still each I swear to treasure
Sun upon my browning skin
salt as waves come crashing
pictures slow in life to go
all through my mind and flashing
Let me hold the canvas
blues and grays come inter mitten
If I wrote the story
are you sure of what you're getting
All I need is just one thought
just one that's strong, unbending
written down where skin does brown
And waves are neverending