where you going to go office man?
what's up that ladder?
turn the covers back,
lay down to catch brand new dreams,
let them surface,
grow fresh and strong from unkempt gardens,
a thousand miles wide,
borne of colours and music,
hold on with white knuckles,
for everything hangs by a thread,
try to be alive before you are dead,
then let it go,
forever to slip this faltering vessel,
meanwhile I can see it,
but I need to see that it is special,
when, as I boy,
I sat in church,
listening to sermons,
I didn't understand,
would quietly lean over,and slip a candy into my hand.