The loners

The loners

Flowers could be in gardens or by roadside

Or deck the mortuary, or my hair

Look, these morning glories at my window

Come from a crack of the brick wall

For me, I think, or who else


And those trees

Those seedlings beneath the canopy

And those scattered elsewhere

Who knows which one will survive

And grow up beyond a hundred years


A seed may fall in a dent of a rock

And take to sprout

Its roots reach out for underwater

And its hands for the sun above


The loners, born by precipices

Struggle for life in perilous bloom   

Never know the pretended terror

Of a bungeer


       Solo chorus

I am an dissonance

In mass square dance

Like a zombie suddenly comes alive

Supple and fair and enchanting

I am looking for a place

Where I can sing and dance

To my own whim and rhythm

Where no one listens or see

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