Words of Wednesday

I sat myself upon my knee
and considered all I've seen,
I asked me why the maple tree
should cry about the green.

I looked then at my opened eyes
and wondered what I'd said,
And how such thoughts of unheard sounds
should enter in my head.

"Do you know just what it is
that makes you hear no sound?
Do you believe in fantasy
and truth in lies unbound?"

I didn't have the answer then
perhaps I never will,
'Til then my friend I'll call you when
I see beyond the hill.

Perhaps it's not what I have seen
perhaps not what I've heard
Perhaps it's lack of faith in faith
and lack of trust in word.

Perhaps there is another place
just past that wistful rise
Perhaps that's where my answers lie
and with it wisdom wise.

Or maybe I just look too hard
and strain to look too far
When all I need is in the back seat
of my beatup car.