Sometimes I think I'm real slick.
Everything's straight, in line,
Waiting to get knocked out.
I have a plan, some idea
Of what I want to do
And what needs to be done.
But now words cannot be found,
My arms limp like rubber not taut,
And my hands as soft as movie prop rocks.

You're presence and smile
Brighten up my grey day;
The one source of light
In which I find shade.
Thank you my friend
For slowing me down,
Showing me off
And introducing me around.

So maybe I'll stay for a while,
Kick off these weary boots,
And revise my ideas and plans.
It's time to chart a course
For a new place to take root,
Now that this plant's in the sun.