letter to july...

man made mostly to be unable to come close to each other,
like brother loves brother, rubs me the wrong way.
mom say, "play together nice or don't play at all."
but i don't believe that, in fact, with every word i scrawl.
i can see my calling, crystal clear, falling into place next to fear.
i'll long to kiss your lips but i'll be gone within the year.
and here i stand in the middle of a parade,
where the band played on beyond the dawn's early light brigade.
they came and went and everyone did exactly as they were told,
they only knew that leopold the bold would give them a chance to grow old.
and that's the man i want to walk behind blind-folded,
with golden mind-control to find the hole
that's been ripped along the dotted-line and folded
back together again. i can still remember when
i met you open-eyed in the opium den.
that was the first time i saw july fly, and know not why,
but from then on, my callin' became clouded.
my scrawlin' became shrouded with thoughts of you,
often i wonder what my pops would do.
would he stand and shake your hand or
clench his fist as he talked to you?
well i was taught to do only one thing at a time
and record it as the truth until i prove it was mine.
so with that in mind, i leave with everything i know,
i love you like leather-bound books but it looks like i gotta go.
i'll always be yours,

sincerely,

scribbin' the scribe

july, i'll be home when i can.