There’s comfort
In old tales
And old ways
Is that why you refuse to budge?
Is that why you refuse to change?
There’s comfort
In old tales
And old ways
Is that why you keep me caged?
I won’t fly my dear
For I too find comfort in old ways
I am caged
Without a cage
From stone age
There’s comfort
In old tales
And old ways
I will not steal you words
I will not steal your sword
I will speak if spoken to
If not I will hide my words in the blues
There’s comfort
In old tales
And old ways
You feed me stale stories
Day after day
Month after month
Year after year
And I thrive
If you suddenly change the stories
I will not survive
There’s comfort
In old tales
And old ways
I keep singing
Songs of freedom
For days
And you clap
A thunderous applause
By one man audience
Is what I am used to
I will be lost if not for you
There’s comfort
In old tales
And old ways
I taste the sunrays
Everyday
Burning my tongue
Little by little
The day the taste changes or the day the tongue burns
Will be the end of times
And the rhymes
I really like this. Referring to poetry and expecting to read or write that with which we are familiar…but just like in life…others may see us being in ruts, but often the familiar is more comfortable, safer…like watching an old movie for the 20th time, rather than trying out a new one that may disappoint us.
And often two people growing old together…yes a sameness exists…but maybe that is what both want and need.
really good poem…
j.
Thank you for your comment, Jacob.