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[i]Scribbled in Notes[/i]



Bring out the box of bonds,
Here we have hands and heavy hooks
Too many to make puns with, but too tempting to toss topside
Could toss them aside, but we`ll be back at it, forgetting things

So as we start the next piece, the planning of it, or something from it,
Write as much of it down, picture it as a tombstone
There will be mounds of blossoms, a few plain tomes
Scattered ideas scattered all over again while the wicked wrist wicks, cracks, twists, and bends

Some days where the heart gets dents, some cuts, more winces,
There will be some memories getting scattered, but they`ll not be merely shattered
Tarred in boiling glass, to be preserved for admiring
Noticed by the plot, begging to regain hold

It will be written, and all of it will say "no",
"No" to the darker thoughts
The holes that patch the image within with untied lies
"No" to the pain that at times would take the shackle of chains

The ties can be drawn erased, even broken,
So can ambitious dreams...
So don`t let go, don`t fold the hold to some stranger invading domes 
Whatever the mind knows, open up the tote, save the tone 

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