by Gabrielle Hill
I wish to tell the tale of Roland
A man washed away with the sand
But without a reasonable doubt
He’s the one I want to talk about
He lives in 1918
For that time he’s awful clean
I don’t know why I thought this theme
But he was only in my dream
I think I like this man
I like a male pale, without a tan
I wish I knew where he was
I wish I knew what he does
For I only remember his face
And his voice
If only I had a choice
Where are you Roland?
Are you still here?
Are you the guy that God had planned?
Or is it only as I fear?
Maybe you’re in 2018
Still the man, nice and clean
Maybe it was a 100 years cause’ I’m old-fashioned
But if you’re not here I’ll be dispassioned
Maybe you’re just in my dreams
And life is just as it seems
Maybe you’re just with the sunbeams
And in the sand, washed by the streams