My house. My family. My life. All so amazing, I am constantly in awe with what I must have done to deserve all this, and then I remember. Ah, what a memory.
That old familiar smell, matches that old familiar song. I am 25 again, if not for a moment, then for a lifetime.
Legs crossed, shoulders ache, and I’m dying of heat, a death gladly embraced, if for just another minute, of this twisted creature, we create.
One so full of love, the others empty of it. One so full of acceptance, the others only been told of it. One so lost, the others the only one who can find it. Health, sickness, through death we temporarily part, forever and ever, for ever you hold my heart.
Echoes and silence, moments we embrace. Anger and violence, keep away from this place. This is our palace, or virtuous place, this is our house, our home, or piece of grace.
City, village, mountain, or beach. The place we live, matters not to me.
Oak, aspen, poplar, or spruce. The type of tree, matters not to me.
Hot, cold, wet, or dry. The temperature, matters not to me.
You, us, him, and her, are what matters to me.
Northern lights, never as bright as that night. Second chance, first time right. Seconds last, for moments that night. Breathlessness, breathes so light, breathing deep, breathe me tonight.
-Graham Balon
No comments:
Post a Comment