in the summer there was love, and my heart was an open road. we could have rolled on for ever. but the days became short, and winter came too soon, and the land is blanketed with snow. no two snowflakes drifting through my hands are identical, but they obliterate the ground all the same.
3 Comments:
The real question is: Will the past be able to let go of you?
By Eddie G., at Tuesday, January 18, 2005 5:10:00 AM
it won't let go of me, that's true. every night the same dream, the same fitful sleep.
By pure, at Tuesday, January 18, 2005 9:15:00 AM
Not to mention the same mosquitos that tend to know where to bite you (i.e. in between your fingers or on the soles of your feet) while you sleep...
By Eddie G., at Wednesday, January 19, 2005 2:42:00 AM
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