Thought

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

The dreams I have are not my own,
But are like seeds 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