It is on Sunday And mostly late in the day Scent buttery sweet A ride in the car and the roof all the way down Light blue eyes and sky What lasts forever? All of this turns to rubble After time weathers Charred and burned on stove with baby boy on her hip Smoke a… Continue reading French Toast
It's not my favorite thing to do I did, my visit to you The place It's silent and cold restful, perhaps Here, I wish you My wish, never comes true The graves they are decorated with flags and flowers In Memory, I suppose Lights, the solar kind some are hung and strung, for celebrating In… Continue reading In Memory
On the horizon rests a promise of more, when tomorrow comes. A new day, heated and bright, rays of hope sailing over the cloudy grey. A grey possibly only within the mind, and not shading a perfect sky of blue. That promise, is it real or just a dream, something made up and something that… Continue reading Grey Dreams
Naked vows, with out the dressings their promises were made to be kept, within their locked hearts their promises, soon would fade. Dark days came sure and swift. Their promises, dues to be paid and once again, on their grey days promises made. On burgundy waves, richly encased a bottle green and smooth. Their glasses… Continue reading Burgundy
