Thought

I had a thought and let it free.
It wandered round and up a tree.
I always thought it’d come back to me,
But I was blind and now I see.

The dream I have are not my own,
But are like seed that I have sown.
I’ll have to wait ’till they are gown,
Before I again make them my own.

All my thoughts are free and grand,
To me at least and there I’ll stand.
I’ll wait the tunes of my missing band,
Who will return from that far off land.

Jeff Watkins 1995