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Dave Frazier

The thought escapes me, runs away,

Perchance that I should follow.

For the better part of the day,

Thoughtless, I do wallow.

Or frightful to think, the thought stays put,

Along with so many others.

Thoughtful I be, from head to foot,

Such thoughts, my life it smothers.

Can no comfort zone be found,

In a mind prone to thinking such things?

Thoughts do run, or hang around;

Such is the madness that it brings.

Articulate the thoughts through pen and word,

Give them birth in such a fashion.

Thoughts to live on paper; read, and then heard,

Ah! 'Tis such a noble passion.

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