Oceans, air
currents, back roads,
So many ways
to roam…
Ending
always, on hands and knees,
Crawling my
way back home.
Life has its
ways to trip me,
Song lyrics
veer me from the bucolic…
Lost lovers,
pets and old friends kill,
Romantic
alcoholics.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.