Of Words and Sticks

When the purple dahlias wither and fade away
I speak of cool winds brought by darling May
When clouds cover the sky and the hot sun sets
I speak of laughter  and winning of daring bets
When they make eulogies for the beautiful dead
I speak of fairies and keep it in my crippled head

I sing beautiful melodies that nobody
misses
I embrace the heat of the sun for its red kisses
I let the winds of August caress my brown cheeks
I let not my soul be broken by words and sticks
I eat slowly and savour every salty  humble bite
I love deeply, for it makes my days oh so bright

I speak of purple dahlias like they would never wilt
I speak of fairylands like the castles were ever built
I speak of gambling like i could afford a single chip
I speak of  buds of May like they were mine to keep
I speak of my love like it would never burn this heart
I speak my memories like they were made of fine art

I speak for those whose tongues are frozen in mid air
I speak of all good fellows who have seen many a year
I speak in place of children who havent found a voice
I speak for peasants whose grumbles are but   a noise
I speak before it is light  and you are still in slumber
I speak for after i am gone, so you can all remember