Golden Grove by Joy
Listen here, the words of a Virgil
I’ll show a path only strong can travel
Heavy weights carry barely a warning
I move too fast but it’s pace is growing
Worry one must cant always hear it coming.
Wait
Cant help but think
All I really want is to camp right here
So much I can paint about
The mind you’ve broken
The price it’s cost me now.
False alarm, let’s make these words big
Playful snowballs along for my gig
Even giants make small rolling changes
Track and rubber style of old languages
Wishing the worlds bridges wont burn
In the end chance will hold the urn
Naked footprints outline a wavy trail
Step on and on steady, won’t fail.
Over the lifespan of this blog, I only ever found two pieces of poetry on the Missoula Missed Connections. This one comes from the deep well of the oldest archive document – so it could be at least five years old (if not older). Missoula was always a low-activity forum, so it’s kind of surprising I found as many as I did!
