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Saturday, December 31, 2011

#365 Three Hundred Sixty Five

This is the end
That's what Morrison sang
My only friend
End of line
End of sequence
An end to this beginning
An end to this spring

It's out there now
With life of its own
To wriggle in your noodle
To grow where it was sown

May it free your mind
May the rest follow
In singsong rhyme
In Seussian wallow

A copyright breaking
A line to be taken
A nagging feeling
That cannot be shaken

So very strange
To look back on this sequence
To smile
To cry
To frown
Where did that come from
Admitting that I have no recollection
Is it genius
Is it madness
Is it sadness
Is it obsession

I can't account for it
All I can do is add it up
And stare at where I arrive
Pretty much where I started

This one makes:

Three Hundred Sixty Five

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