Blowing Smoke Rings
(Rich Mullins)
Blowing smoke rings in a mirror.
Watch them circle 'round, catch a draft and disappear.
I wonder where I'll be when I'm no longer here?
Down into the fields I go.
The early flowers bloom in spools of melting drifts of snow.
The green beneath the white is beginning to show.
And, it's a penny a memory. It's a dime for your rhymes.
A quarter's your change, sir, 'cause you're early this time.
And you can see what's yours. But, can you show me what is mine?
Whatever you can't lose or whatever you may find.
I skipped a rock across a creek.
When touched, the water laughed. But, still the stone refused to speak.
So, this treasured relic is swallowed up in the deep.
Through a turnstyle into dreams
Where businessmen are circus clowns, and beggar women become queens.
The walls are bricks of cinnamon, the streets are paved with creams.
And, it's a penny a memory. It's a dime for your rhymes.
A quarter's your change, sir, 'cause you're early this time.
And you can see what's yours. But, can you show me what is mine?
Whatever you can't lose or whatever you may find.
©richmullinsongs
Song Notes: Written probably around 1975.
