January 30, 2010
I would write about the trees and bees and keys that are lost in the solid night,
ii could write.
I just might,
a story about love and fright and the delightful 'ventures of mice, scurrying in forgotten pipes.
If my words were ripe,
i would write about lighted ciggerettes smouldering in the low light, beatnicks in bar.
This would not be hard.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback