The Truebies

Down by the water
where clouds chortle
in a swollen throng of ready tears,
even rivers can't be truest true,
even lakes borrow dreams
for the surface of life.
Oh dive us deep
and hold us near
to the wild then dear
oh dear
to the lick
to the wick
of that flame
to the middle of light
to the flight
to the sea
to the free
for all
place.
To the Truebies
at the bottom of the stair
to the flair
of a wilderness
not bought
not sold
but old
in all it's
truest
beauty.