Little things happen as you proceed thru days

And as they do, sometimes one loses grip, & pays

By coming not to terms with these minor aggravations

Then - you lose sight & turn inward with conflagration



All it takes is simple explanations of why it happened

Then - seeing this - you realize why you're flattened

And a little meditation is all which is then required

For - once achieved - you've beaten out blues and mire



And then you know you could have lost me, and thus do

Climb all over me, with hands feeling from top to shoe

With fingers lingering on those many erogenous points

And I loved it so, I wanted to invade yours and anoint



You all over with the seed, juice and fruits of my passion

But the torment of lost sleep had engulfed me in a fashion

And the moment was lost as I drifted backwards under sand

As my head sunk deeper, and then so too - did your hands ...



- Tristram