I Have ahouse but your building a Home

funny coincidences cant quite describe the way your hand brushes against mine

or how you call everytime I think about you for longer than three minuets time

 

But its no coincedences how the stars fell from space and painted poetry into place

brushed glory on your face

and magic on every tip I taste...

and the hint of wonder in the moments im afraid I've overstepped my alotting

knowing that my mind is twisting and plotting things

better left alone

 

for I may have a house but your building a home

 

And time was against us andf the fates tried to set-still the turnings  of the time

but maybe the wrote a stiff and putrid rhyme

not the extragant, and pompus pagentry of like-minded souls from other times

laughing and carrying on of tales of saints and signs that signaled beginings and ends of this era and that Age,

bringing not only hope but famine pestilence and hate,

whole worlds filled of strange adventures mundane and sublime

 

tripping of tid-bits and hear-says of your going on's

I wonder how your nuiances will translate into a new song

in the Ballad or Romany James St. John