Every Tunesday I post a boldly imperfect, one-take song draft of a song. This was written from the prompt post on Saturday, September 12th: Where the Mountain Would Be. (You can receive a new prompt every Friday in time for Happy Hour by signing up here).
We’ve been inside
Empty highway long haul ride
Fallow fields feeling fraught
Wander aimless what’s been wrought
Flatland level waxing tides
Hermit crab no place to hide
Sidewalk walks empty shells
Quiet days just humming
Water dried up in the well
Hollow echo where the bucket fell
Not even the bump of an anthill
Where the mountain used to be
Wound up strings without a tune
On the floor endless room
Orchestra playing the same old note
No wind for the sails of this boat
Wonder how long we’ll be afloat
Drifting sideways going rote
Concrete grey of cloudless sky
Quiet days just humming by
timmyr.com 