Spring Tale

I heard the stress at the edge of your voice
I know you feel boxed in with not much choice
And I wish there were magick, or some other way
To heal the old pain and make it all feel okay

And, perhaps there is, so I want the universe to know
That there needs to be rest between the rushing and flow
So I'll be right over here, where I'm taking a seat
Just lean back and relax while I massage your feet

And tell you the tale of the wound up spring
That went off looking for a place to do it's thing
Get unwound. Relieve some of the stress
That takes laughter from life and makes things a mess.

The spring, see, was tight ... pretty, but not new
And looking for help, but not finding a clue
Looking here and there, and all it found
Was the answer: "depends on where you're bound"

Well, the spring wasn't heading anywhere special
And thought that answer too superficial
Not bothering to look into the meaning of things
Well, you know how it is with tightly wound springs.

Long story short: the spring wasn't tight
But bound up by circumstances that were kept out of sight
They changed, of course, as all things seem to go
And the spring now looks tootsie and has a new glow

So my story is done and, I hope, so are your feet
It's been rather fun, and it's always to treat
To sit for a while with your feet on my lap
Now, be off with you ... it's time for a nap.