Charlotte

What you call consistent, remains out of reach, swallows all resistance, searching for the sea, tida rises to the beach, washes blue rinsed sheets, when you reel listless, try your book of sugarbees, in all the things you miss, your stash of easy pieces, jangles around beseeches, drifts away on the breeze, then you stand shapeless, each time someone leaves, on gentle winds of promise, , you say take ite easy, forgetting any reason, its me who wants to sing, back to dancing free.