The Message in My Bottle
If you knock on the door,
And there's nobody there,
Leave a note, or a message,
So I'll know that you care.
~I use you~
~You use me~
...That's how it all works out...
DON'T CROSS THE LINE
My home is MY castle,
That's perfectly clear.
My shelter from weather.
My place to store gear.
My shelter in fear.
My castle 'gainst the world.
However, sometimes I go though
an Independent Hermit cyclone stage.
Creativity let lose upon me and mine
I party with my muse.
When we're together
All hell can break lose
Or creativity heaven..
So get back to me. Or throw me a note.
I'm here with muse Sting*
Rhapsody, and some kind of writing.
It's a special combination,
A point in time, with some work to rhyme
A finite issue of my philosophy.
Other possible reasons for not getting an answer:
If the door isn't answered,
It could be I'm sleeping,
I'm outdoors, with Mom,
Or privately weeping.
So if I'm not up to,
Call and tell the machine.
Leave an e-mail to which I may say.
I'll get back to you later, if I may.
I can if I'm able.
I will when I'm able.
ps. If the dogs wake me up,
'Cause you're hanging 'round my door,
You really ought to leave, right now,
Or expect to be treated like a .
Author's Note: *Gordon Somers, you know, "Sting," "the Police."
© Copyright 2002 kneefarious (UN: patrice at Writing.Com).
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