HiveComb

Deal with the cards that you hold,
We are always told.
I do not want to get old,
I am not getting sold
into this idea of going
quiet into the sunset,
I will beat my drums,
follow my dreams and
as it seems, I have the means
to live forever, if I can
stop the time.

I am fine, for now,
but all that reap what you sow
without the know-how,
not being too raw,
but in the mighty maw
of my cat saying meow-meow,
it is just a draw
between my emotional seesaw
and the feather of that crow
that was siting on the roof
of my house, chasing the additional mouse.

I like that crow,
it is keeping the naughty pigeans away,
but hey, they do say Hi,
January through May, bye,
catcher in the rye
style, smile of an angel,
the devil is in the details,
the tails of that cat and rabbit
are throwing me out of habit,
and I would like to stay,
to fight another day,
it is not what you say,
but how you draw
the sword from the stone,
muscle and bone,
not deaf, the tone
of the inner music
is too loud again
too loud, the cloud
that covered my mind
during my sleep,
last night,
went away without a fight,
out of sight, that earbug
was there repeating
itself the whole day,
but hey, I said for the second time
today, can you listen
to the sound of a single hand
clapping?

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