Strings
To bows.
Strings to bows and who knows,
The music and the rest,
And where ere the wild wind blows,
I seek the very best.
Driving west I then invest,
My heart and soul are in love,
As I seek the very best,
And blessings from above.
Tiny towns of renown,
The driving’s not a test,
A lady in a dress and gown,
I saw the very best.
I hit the dirt and I flirt,
With attitudes of zest,
And leave behind all the hurt,
I want the very best.
The gullies midst the green and gold,
Wee birdies in a nest,
And it’s true what I’ve been told,
Seek the very best.
The gate and groups of gum trees,
And beauty I behest,
Standing here in the breeze,
Life is the very best.
A gentle thrust is a must,
The throttle will not rest,
Eat the toast and the crust,
Taste the very best.
Way out west I feel the best,
A place to shed the stress,
I know that I can’t go wrong,
I want the very best.
©
David Rudder
2023
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