Steve Fowler
The Best Thing I Can Think Of
The best thing I can think of
When I'm not dreaming
Is the smell of cut grass
And quietIs it because I am a prisoner of dreams
That this successful thought must be intruded upon?
The imagination runs its hand over a tired old keyboard
And I see myself drifting through the fields
Of a fragrant memory,
The piper's tardy child
Furiously limping toward paradise
With those strangest of twins,
Elation and fear, frozen on my expectant face.
But, merely crippled,
I am left again with the horses.
Steve Fowler was a musician in Los Angeles until stricken with ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) in March 1997. Realizing that the only way to stay alive was to maintain a creative posture, he has been writing memoirs, poetry, and a screenplay. To hear some of his music and read more of his writings, please visit his website at stevenfowler.com. For more information on ALS , go to als-tdf.org.
