over time

I can't get what I want
I want to swing away
but for the team I bunt
It's all a waiting game
bide your time and see
there's misery in fame
I will not beat myself
Even though I'm as weak
as an abandoned elf
The taste is sweet
on the outside of my tongue
But to get it I must cheat
The lie is easily told
Bounty quick to come
For what should not be sold
but in my heart I need
not just born of want
Or simply that of greed
the best in life is earned
A child's face, rooms of smiles
butter must be churned
And so ripe the fruit
Upon the seasoned vine
first whisper from mute
Old age is a reward
Where gifts reviewed
At the passing of your sword

All rights reserved to James Martin Cox