So many writing ideas come and go

It is tough to keep them in tow

Good feelings abound, so we share

Then something else makes us dare



To bend a little, upon our soapbox

And toss yet something else on top

Of a fire which blazes upon embers

And then we realize, and remember



There are many who read our tunes

Then do borrow and play back soon

Parts which have struck them odd

Such as soles which are then shod



And as I heal with thoughts of ire

I know it is just, - for the fire

I stoked with simple preachings

Was at odds, with wry teachings



Sometimes, these things'll happen

As there's much still poised on pen 

And as the mood creates a leaching

Of thoughts which are still seeping



I know there will be things at odds

With clever tunes which then do prod

Some minds with their altruism

And, at times - this is my rhythm



But, all in all - there is melody

Which sings gleefully with free

Abandon, as I continue to burn

My logs on kindling which turns



From short refrains which smoulder

To larger scopes, as I get older

And as maturity comes in odes

The reality is - they're owed.



- Tristram