town of opportunities

tipsy, i knocked the jar
on the floor again
mums favourite one

tipsy, frisky still a moron
but my flaws become
much better,as i get older
i do move on

not too
unlike the sun
nor unlike the moon
i think ill write a poem soon

to sing to the moon in milton
that too to the stars
and shop displays

from the library to the school
i grew up
they opened up both my heart
and my courage

i never showed it
but had love regardless

tipsy i reminisced
that i a star
had glowed
something of beauty
something of my curtain hew
something youthful
displaying my love
for those back streets
and those people

a half-sad kind of searing
pain that i gain
I'm apt in my craft
im up for a laugh
and I'm showing this town feels more like
a song from above
or that of a post country dream
in a song that im hearing
lounging in bed
half out up to heaven
more than a feeling
theres no haze or daze worth comparing
to getting
a song off your chest

when everythings hurting
i open the past
within it for certain
 is a slow lullaby
i hear in it milton