a fool’s gold is still gold

Oh Fool, oh sweet Fool,
what right have you to be so full
and light, to think in such bright and silly
tunes, to feel your feet
seep through the floorboards and sip gently
at the groundwater?

Oh Fool, oh sweet Fool,
your song is sung in scrambled eggs,
in leisurely walks, in the green of
new-formed leaves and the hefty talk of blossoms,
with petals reaching up to suck in the sun,
the stars, the sky, and songs,
and songs!

Oh Fool, sweet, sweet Fool,
don’t ever let the singing go to silence,
go carrying that tune, for
some things when dropped are spilled and soiled
Oh, Fool, my sweet Fool,
don’t ever believe this world isn’t yours,
and don’t ever quiet yourself for others.

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