Child Of The Reeds

And so your friend
the wild, red-eyed goat man
shares his mind along the shore,
he tells you in stoic trend
the vapid, absent plan
that governed before
and now

And so upon that reedy beach
you sat away the day
lost
but joy in reach
and the sun your only pay
how it wills away the frost,
that frau

But when the sphere sets down
he carries himself away with frown
off into those brambles aimless
the thicket ripened with novel distress

And the nights do come and go
with ebb and flow
so naturally uncomfortable
and your friend on tip of toe
comes forth with glow
and tales new to hear
bereft of fear
drawing near
to thee

Until the passings come again
and off the least one goes
and if with the night's passing he does not return
conclude that he is dead, and move on