Southern Loop
The arrow I see every day
Pointing me along my way
As I walk and sing and pray
North to fire’s Ice temptation
For as I think of little good
Wondering if I could, I should
Thinking still of little nice
Taking chances with weighted dice
Moving forward once, yet backwards twice
Towards ill made joy and elation
Immature in action, voice, and pencil
Run on logs and so much kindle
As innocent leaves pay ultimate price
Just fly to fall and end the play
Amidst the concentration
The truth is lost in tickle
But somehow left ok
As minerals of Ice decay
In truthful concentration
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