Too long, too alone.
Oh! Like time is strange weather...
Sometimes I think I am a flower
I cannot tell myself apart from one...
Recently I discovered this poem I wrote and typed...
As I ran wildly crying...
Some say a poem is supposed to rhyme
Though many don’t every time...
You who seem to be born with a pen in your hand,
who hold it as second nature integral to yourself...
You work alone-
Striving; constantly...
You run upon the lavas of all your fears,
though...
All those summers,
when innocence...
Wistful wisteria
lays in wait...
Black Jack is a betting man
he's a card shark if you will...
In nine short months I hope to enter
the eighth decade of my life, with...
She was crying
like I could never stop her...