Tumbleweed
by Steven Clotzman

I’m tired, I’m torn,
. . . a child fighting to be born
While that tumbleweed
Just keeps rolling on

I push, I shove
. . . see fate circling above
But that tumbleweed
Just keeps rolling on

Now tumble, I’m as humble
As a spoke in that old wagon wheel
Tumbleweed, when you tumble
Tell me, what is it you feel?

I sleep alone
In this dark valley strewn with bones
But that tumbleweed
Just keeps rolling on


Don’t ask me why
My memory’s long but my mouth is dry
But that tumbleweed
Just keeps rolling on

Some speak of dread
Say, best make my peace with the dead
While that tumbleweed
Just keeps rolling on

Tumbleweed, what’s the hurry?
There’s still so much left to say
Seems each time I feel your fury
The wind takes you away

Time’s short, that’s true
And don’t know what else I can do
But that tumbleweed
Just keeps rolling on


© 2007 & 2008 Steven Clotzman - all rights reserved