To Enter the world of wise fools

Want to cry
In your arms
Said the little boy
To an old grandmother
Wondered the boy
Why he needed that embrace
Of abandoned joy
In a safety of sunshine
Moon rays
With no need to
Reflect on the pools of brine
In a salt workers farm
Windmills of hopes
Will run for you
So to ramps of approval
Of strong winds are
There
You dont care
You do
I know you do
But first write your script
And get your passport
To enter the world
Of wise fools