The Fool

Of joy and laughter
He know his lot
Of wisdom he cares little
Vagabond creature no home of his
Trends with light foot
For the ground is too heavy
For him
The Excuse he gives
On his back is life’s possessions
Ahead the new
No number holds him to a path
On a whim of fancy flight
Looks not to where he’s been
But to the heaven and their grace
Stops to smell a flower sweeter
At his heels dog persist
One wrong step and he is done

Folly

Wings alight with silver trails
Oh what heights they do prevail
Souring upon the sky
Oh what foolish creatures
Are they
For their heads are but glass
Their wings of paper
Do they think themselves,
Angels of heavens grace?