When will I look back at life, When will I look back and laugh?
Same but Different
I stepped out of the grayness of a long winter’s play
Into the blindinglight of the wakening new day.
The cool fresh breezeof morning fills the room as the crew
Of rain andsun ready the seeds that are the stage
Act two:
But there are no new lines tomemorize.
They come from the same cold pages these
Wordsthat are life, day in and out with
The theater onthe same corner... waits.
The scenery ischanging to a brighter backdrop while
Costumes grow shorter.
Feet are bare on the fresh earth
That is stillcool and wet from the morning.
The sun is movingcloser to dry life’s rostrum warm.
Why do thewords of this new hue seem so much sweeter?
This new passion in the words dead of winter seem to beckon
A rebirth of the same circumstance
But
With a fresh coat of paint.
Why does it come now when winter is gone?
I stepped out of the grayness of a long winter’s play
Into the blindinglight of the wakening new day.
The cool fresh breezeof morning fills the room as the crew
Of rain andsun ready the seeds that are the stage
Act two:
But there are no new lines tomemorize.
They come from the same cold pages these
Wordsthat are life, day in and out with
The theater onthe same corner... waits.
The scenery ischanging to a brighter backdrop while
Costumes grow shorter.
Feet are bare on the fresh earth
That is stillcool and wet from the morning.
The sun is movingcloser to dry life’s rostrum warm.
Why do thewords of this new hue seem so much sweeter?
This new passion in the words dead of winter seem to beckon
A rebirth of the same circumstance
But
With a fresh coat of paint.
Why does it come now when winter is gone?
About me
- I'm Scott Ertl
- From Tulsa, OK, United States
- My profile
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