Ashen Shade

by Doris Muramatsu / Ty Greenstein

There goes that old postman
Riding on his bike
He's got a bag full of phone bills
And nothing to justify

I'm as naked as a winter tree
With promises remote
Wish I could fly away above the ashen shade
Observe the world below

Once I had a calling
This town praised my hands
Now I'm sculpting apologies
Cause folks they don't understand


I could change myself
There's so much else I could do
Except I always knew
I was deeper than dailyness
I was made to be manifest
The art like an amethyst of truth

I know, it's only too clear
Spiders spin their webs year after year
I never had that kind of resolve
To know my fear, to face it at all


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