pretty maids all in a row
oh Mother, how softly your breath blows
the warm spring air
ripples thru my hair
my soul leans
to the bitter greens
I remember myself and a battle elf
deep in a dream - is it real as it seems?
mountain laurel full of grace
make my mind a sacred space
takes me back
to days at SAC
I walked to school
and broke some rules
just to see if I was free
a strange boy punk
with hair like a skunk
wrote me a rhyme
that halted time
He said he saw me in a field
with all the flowers she can yield
with my hair all down
and the sky my crown
now here I am
there again
sometimes I'm not
who I thought
I was at all
can I hear my soul call?
now is the thyme
to make more rhymes
till I'm deep in the core
with the iron ore
then I climb up the tree
that grows in me
she's my inner child
waited quite awhile
in halls of books
throwing hopeful looks
my way
as if to say
"let me feel the light of day"
I pushed her down
and reached for the crown,
the papers and the chains
the repetitive refrains
but down at the sea
of galillee
I washed my face, my hands and said
all that I thought I was is dead
branches that suck good energy
from the green and vital leaves
they're so small
but they grow tall
to establish me
faster than you can say "love is free"
nothing but the grace
of my Mother's face
can open in me the door to peace
now I see this is the real me
sharp as a knife and Nature's wife
a bumbling bee with pollen sweet
and a sting for your feet
to keep us all moving
and improving
we make more room
and soon enough we bloom
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