Lonesome Buoys 1_4_2026

Wickedjohnandthedevil

This old road bends round the lakeside
Round every little tiny curve
They drained the water out one morning
So now it’s just a field of dirt

The little houses rest uneven
Upon the dried up empty shore
I feel the absence all around me
I tend to dwell on how it was

I see the boats and the lonesome buoys
I see the sun and the ripples and leave
The black water in the black evening
I see myself as it saw me to be

The old silos once a mystery
They reappear now in the sun
Like the ruins of some old world
As if a new one had begun

Maybe in time the rain will come down
And not stop for a thousand days
A give the life back to the old lake
And wash the old world far away