They Are Taken
Finders keeping lost things
Others looking for a memory
Alone on lonesome highways out of town.
Losing what you’ve seen
While humming softly to a melody
To spite the silence bringing people down.
Come see the color on the fingers
From a painting ive let go.
A time where we had chins up day to day.
Pulled at every ocean at a moment so it was
That conversation brewed a cup for us
To quickly pour away.
I’ve seen the pages dry of print
In bindings we thought permanent
While writers let us take the time to bleed.
Through trouble thatched with ego still
Against the might of iron will,
I’m bending to the coastline at my feet.