Passing yesteryears old sixty-nine suicide doors, caddy once again; feeling....
The warmth of his morning sun as looking back ? Boz Scaggs, reeling in these times
Haven't faced this wind in quite awhile now; running about tiny circles going nowhere
Learned to shut windows their seperations long ago but; children, better a heart apart ?
Joy be life's shadow, tucked away within it's corner somewhere; gazing past her glass to find
Tethered, these tides which bind ? Brother an infant centre of black and white; nineteen fifty-six
Love captured in still frames smiling mom as dad; mere babies, yet what is that ? Gathering their tears.
Categories:
scaggs, angel, animal, art, autumn,
Form: I do not know?