One Quiet Morning
One quiet morning I took myself away from here Then flung me far Through the façade of today Into the frontage of ‘morrow There I found an old man He stood aloof, musing His eyes were wise, they glister His delicate fingers Were honey colored He came across as one Who’s threaded slippery ground and fell Who’s waddled swamps and sunk, and Rose and scaled mountains He seems as who was forged To be and live alone On closer look I found the man was me.