From the Penthouse to the Outhouse, all places between;
We ran from ourselves to the end of our means.
We saddled a horse that turned out to be wild
And slept in the tree fort of our inner most child.
Threw caution to wind, blew here and elsewhere
Without GPS on a wing and a prayer.
The landing was rough till we put on the brake
And let someone else steer for sanity’s sake.
Copyright © Randy Biffany