Every thought,
came back,
to you,
pitiful indeed.
Camping in my,
thoughts,
an unpleasant,
nights unrest.
Morning was,
no better,
the smell,
of hot coffee.
The wood fire,
burning,
last nights
desires.
The lake,
ripples,
with sounds,
I remember.
Can you,
hear me crying,
when,
it's storming?
Splashing in the,
waves,
beneath,
the sun's rays.
The smell of regrets,
repulsive,
like dead fish,
rotting on the shore.
The roar of motors,
out boards,
inboards,
the throttles of life.
Sleeping beneath,
the stars,
my heart forever,
aches.
...
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