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The
year was 1977. Elvis died and people cried.
I was in India.
Can you tell?
Kiss
away the sweet melody of youth
in a passion so extreme
it crushes the moment in its passing
leaving you cold in the memory and shivering in the beauty of
a unique but ended day
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SOMETIMES
THE AIR THAT YOU
BREATHE JUST ISN'T ENOUGH
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Gasping for a vision of sunlight
through squinted lashes...
diamonds and bright... loving
and warm
and
youth
So brightly
shining that
life turning
grey in its
passing
pales before
it's frenzied
light |