I can see the silouettes,
the tree line, really.
Even in this moonless night.
You poke fun at me,
about this night vision.
Probably figuring fitness above
finess.
As we stroll though thick underbrush,
and I point out the deer laydowns.
And racoon shit.
Maybe I'm just a country boy,
or a vessel of lost love.
But who gets you out of the bush
everytime?
Comments
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Johnny this is really lovely....I wonder who this is addressed to!!!!
The last four lines are heartbreakingly beautiful,
(I sort of like the "or" suggesting a country boy can't be a vessel of lost love!!!!!!! yet also saying that that is what you are)
A very tender piece of work but still very much you.
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