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Date Posted: 10:01:16 10/26/00 Thu
Author: AGS
Subject: First time - The Strummer


Oh so oft does the harp of merriment,
Be played, now and again, it's strummed tunes,
To all it's bedazzled listeners,
Not, to the tunes itself, but to the thoughts
Preceding them, the play, making them come to life,
To take positions, on the grand stand,
Far and wide, plunked before them,
And them not so willing, so see at all, but yawn,
And tell us for the second or third time,
That the time clock in their office is not working properly,
And they may get a day off, in the third September in May,
Or something like that. And so I listen, and so does he,
The strummer.
My love, she doth blossom forth as does the Tangerine Flower, which just peeks for the longest stretch of time,
Then comes full force forth with many beautiful flowers . .
Radiances not often seen, since she doth grow atop hills,
Naturally, out of sight, cloaked the more often,
Betwixt, between, others, which resemble her.
However she has greater radiance, fuller, and more often Able to catch the larger bees, the straying Yellow Jackets,
And even the blackened Wasp, oddly, simultaneously,
Between the open buds, straining, looking for attention,
From life's merriments herself, among the bees, and among the wasps . . . and her flowers, her buds,
Begin this time of summer each year,
To pile themselves amidst themselves, with the others,
All seeking, the meaning of the tunes, as being played,
So faintly, in the far far and unheard distance,
Of the strummer, far and wide, and too oft,
By thy side, but we won't say anything about that -
For my love is the strummer, as she doth peak at me too,
Momentarily, to test, that my life is still in tact,
The clock still worketh, to notice, to see,
That which my deadened friend beside me
Refuses to see . . . that there is life In the strummer,
Life measured off by the time clock you annoy yourself with,
And my life has taken residence,
There, as I look to see it,
Strummed, in the strummer ..

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