T for Tom

Rusty Fingers on Dusty Keys

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on October 30, 2012

Rusty fingers on dusty keys,

Leading me, leading me

To type the words that come spilling out

Like the fog

Like the fog of an early morning slowly rolling over the tiny, little blades of grass that glisten gleam glow shimmer and shake beneath the weight of another day on this earth where things go terribly right

And things go terribly wrong.

It won’t be soon before long that we’ll know the clouds will roll away

But they won’t stay gone forever.

The clouds have been and the clouds will be and in between we were.

Certain spirits see more misty mountains than others,

I believe they dreamed larger and lived harder,

I can’t forget the feeling of these rusty keys, dusty keys.

Keys to living

Leading me, leading me.

Keys to giving the world a part of me so I might live longer whether terribly right or horribly wrong.

The only thing horrifying – the dust on these keys.

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