Texas Sky

Suppose. Suppose.

Out in Texas where the sky is so high

And so close; close enough to touch, but far

Enough away you continue to find

Yourself moving. I was left not knowing

Who or what I was.

There, where windmill fields

Slice white against the blue and I half expect

To see Don Quixote ride by…

I open my eyes to see the sun set

In the western sky;

To notice flannel

Silhouettes of my boyhood dreams, watching

Me pass by, from a weather beaten porch.

With a dog smiling at their calico sides.

Suppose. Suppose. This is where I came to be.