G a b a r r e t

Three miles from Gabarret

fly into Paris but get lost along the way

sinking between green grape vines

stained purple postcards from too much French red wine

and we find it’s a blessing and a curse

when we know well just what we're worth

Three miles from Gabarret

cross Spanish mountains and miles of bales of hay

and they say we're better once we find

the words our mother said were only to be kind

Indecision killed the sheep

who woke up lost and alone after years of dream filled sleep

and though her wool was full of ideas for endless fun

she sat and starved on pause unable to choose one. 




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