Frederick

The boy with no father brushes the
Past off the purple sombrero and hangs
It on the wall next to the orange face
His grandfather carved out of the trunk of a palm tree

He thinks that he can mold himself a new past,
And maybe he will, but not yet
So he keeps on hanging things on his wall

And sometimes, when the children come to visit
They ask if they can play with the boy's purple sombrero
And always, when the children come to visit
He tells them the story of how he found it in a dumpster
And brought it home to hang on his wall

In the evenings, when the sun snuggles up
In the moon's dark blankets
And the world leaves great poets and lovers to their arts
The boy often gathers his thoughts
And his pens
And his notebooks
And falls asleep among tear-stained blank pages



Credits
Writer(s): Grahm Eberhardt
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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