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Songs of childhood make me think of poems yet to come In my young days when I heard music I heard the drums Now I'm older I like the tunes that only I can hum Standing in the doorway, lighting up...
What happened to the days when we would be happy. We used to be in love. We used to lay and count the stars. We used to dream of a future, dream of life. Nothing could tear us apart, or so we thought.
Forbidden Fruit He invasions her in a orchard of peach trees, in tight white shorts and a baby blue & white checked blouce, sleeves rolled up, belly bare and too many buttons left undone.
English Leather came in its own little wooden box. It looked kind of like what you would see in a cedar chest.
Stories you read when you’re the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called.
After seeing my sister close her eyes and never waking up in the summer was unbearable. Now it was winter, and I was watching the snow falling to the ground. Each snowflake having it's own design.
I entered the cage meant for an animal, Carved my sentence with a nail on the wall, Lived by a sea, played roulette, Dined with Devil-knows-who in a tux.
The wind created a river of sand about two feet off the beach. Fragments of pebbles caught the wind and miniature dunes sprang up at my feet.
A diligent student unlike any other. All knowledge leans towards her, assembly together. Never lost, nor forgotten. She retains it all, but is downtrodden. Her gift of memory, however useful.
Just as I walked away from the dark Forrest of my life and walked into green plains I see the ghost of a life I have left behind many full moons ago and the face of one I had forgotten.