6 - 2 - 1
by
Robby Richardson
Dedication
Dedicated to the two wild turkeys I would see everyday coming home from work
6 little turkeys pecking at the green trying to find something to feed
Born all together from the same flock raised all together through many faces of the clock
Houses sprung up and farms spread out...terrain grew shorter and roads grew wider
Born first, played first, raised first, loved first, lived first...we were here first
Before this trail, this path, this dirt, this road, this fear was here
As the years grew long and simplicity turned to complexity
The road expanded and grew next to me...next to us...we couldn't stop the adventurous
Such a rush rush kind not having any time...not even to stop for this friend of mine
6 birds survived all season...sun battered down and winters grew cold
We huddled together when the rain poured but us four couldn't survive this world of yours
Now what are we to do when there's only two...do we stay here or a horizon pursue
Leave this place and try to comprehend this world forgotten and just pretend
Or leave our home and start over again
From 6 to 2...just me and you...survivors of this world we can't live through
Bound to our home, bound to the range, bound to this place that now feels strange
It's a foreign place, we're out of place, people watching like we're an offense...we don't make sense
How could our home not be home, how is that wrong? We were here long before you came along
We watched you grow, become part of the land and me, thought we could live in harmony
When two was struck left on the side I never left her side
Side by side as life left my side, all alone in this world of mine
Acceptance is what we demand, but balance is something humans can't understand
This lonely flock gone from two to one because of you wild has gone to none
The End