A small mattress for you

Don’t lock me out
Said the spirit
Of a greenish blue bird
Sitting on a branch of a dry tree
But how could I
How could I
Gates of scattered songlines
Need a piano
Dancing steps
Bubbling smiles
None of which need a reason
And yet occupied as I am in the struggles
Of a life
Dissolved in a soup of
Fresh asparagus
Do you want to eat these
Without a spoon
And a fork
Fingers soaked in jelly of hopes
Oozed joyful cream
Of a careless farm
Mature crops
Or just tell me
Why standing at the gate of the farm
I should watch birds fly
And pray that my devotion
To the pursuit of a purposeful
Journey
Will be fulfilled
Without losing the joy of.
Sitting on a bench
In a solitary corner
Of a forlorn street
Of a forbidden city
In the company of a sound
A touch
A smell
An abandoned air
Forget the rules
Create a sanctuary
So that wild dear
Can roam free
And elephants will not worry
About the deep footsteps
In which will grow a grass
That I need to weave a
Small mattress for you
To take with you
When you grow old
And have to keep your feet dry
On a wet ground