When old games are too much for you
And life ebbs away slowly
Like berries squeezed of their juice
Then you see there is no hurry.
You can only have what’s for you –
What belongs to those it is given.
And maybe, maybe for you,
Will be sifted a little slice of heaven.
Then maybe you’ll leave footprints there
Or even the mark of your palm.
Maybe you’ll meet other hearts there
And leave words of love and calm.
Maybe then a ruffled sea of poppies
Will sound like a symphony.
Yes, home is where your mind finds ease,
Where your heart grows peacefully.