Writer's Minor Holiday

Writer's Minor Holiday

Thumb tacks spread out

Across your hometown state

Hollow tree at half mast

Wait until wintertime

Leaves a paper trail a licorice plant that's overgrown

Like a cabin in the woods on a minor

Like a minor holiday

Woolrich red plaid wolf

Irish whiskey glass

Here comes my fine bright haired lass

Like a trash fire burning and burning it

My heart could never right the words never fail

Tucked under your cap and for a moment

There's a stillness before the room spins again

Minor holiday, spin it again

Ride it out so you can tell

Wasted on the weekend

Making good time with my excuse

Where the plot lines are like dead ends

Floating in her eyes at the bottom of a well

Floating in her eyes ride it out for a spell

Minor holiday

Transfer this weight

Minor holiday

Transfer this weight

Going back and forth

On a minor, minor holiday