There was something in the sugar that day
Friendships were sweetened, no delays
All stirrings within the heart of Tehran
Pictures were perfect, by a Ballina palm
Bread is always manna, for home, a hearty share
and freedom is willing when partnerships care,
break the manna with friends, it is surely a sign
that to follow requires the sharing of wine.
There is little in life but the soul of another
be it stranger or mate or the love of a mother,
we can judge and be seen for what truly we are
by the light of the soul like a mystery star.
We felt right and at home in your unit that day
and had thought if we could that we'd wanted to stay,
BUT the eyes made of glass in the closet's top floor
was a shock as we thought there'd be (possibly) more!
Yet savour and keepsakes are precious loves within life
Never are we to judge, butt spread goodwill lessens** strife
So think of us kindly for when we visit again
Remember, we document well and keep handy our pen.
We are free, not beholden to the laws of the masses
we may choose as we like and defy the smart asses,
rest assured that we know when they play studied roles
we embrace all the genuine, they have truth in their souls.
For weather*** storms are brewed by Obama,
Rudd or the Supreme Leader of Iran
There is peace to be poured,
from our pot of no harm
Let us end not on finish... butt,
next when we furnish the table to lay
We'll ice also with kindness in laughter
and drink in solid, food groups called play