The Elephant Walk

Truth in your mind,

like sands of Time

grating, grinding make them mine.

Stomping, Tromping,

don't be so loud.

You're stirring up such a cloud.

There are days, they say,

you're in the room.

Oh, coffee table make a dune.

Dry and Arid, Wind blows in blue.

Walking, talking, don't do.

You're large, you're white,

you're wise, you're light.

So much time I am uptight.

Did you know you're always right?

The carpet mass, in denseness bound,

the follicles are finely wound.

The trunk is set in lofty sail,

as wrinkles seem to prevail.

A mind in truth,

a foot in booth, the ringing is the contours

that follow all the lines.

The lamps, they shake at every wake,

the ivory discord.

The Elephant walk, is not just talk,

it is a simple chord.

K.A.P.

5/3/2009